The Walls We Used to Know
by Musicangel913
Summary: Desperate to escape her high-profile postwar life, Hermione Granger returns to Hogwarts to complete her education. The school itself faces a rebuilding year and has several important lessons to teach its students about loyalty, forgiveness, and friendship – everyone has scars that need healing.
1. A Semblance of Normal

**A/N: This is my version of the "eighth year" fic - a little different, but hopefully still enjoyable. Please consider letting me know what you think, I really appreciate feedback. J. K. Rowling owns everything Harry Potter-related; I just write for fun. :)**

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After the war, there were the funerals. Countless bodies to be buried; countless names to be engraved in stone; countless praises to be sung of the dead.

Then there were the parties. Elegant balls on which too much was spent, where too many reporters asked her questions and too many nameless people shook her hand. With the parties came the awards – the Order of Merlin, First Class, to be sure, plus a handful of other medals, and a Gringotts vault in which Galleons fell like rain in the Amazon.

Hermione Granger hated it all.

She hated the fact that she and her grieving friends couldn't mourn properly – reporters, Ministry officials, and even the general public swarmed the funerals, making it impossible for anyone to cry as they so desperately needed to without the entire Wizarding world bearing witness. She hated the parties even more – she was forced to find a new outfit for every event (Merlin forbid she be caught wearing the same thing twice in the _Witch Weekly _tabloids; she'd tried it once and the backlash had been both astounding and downright appalling), and she'd heard the deadly dull speeches so often she'd memorized them fifteen long dinners ago. The worst part was having to spend time in the company of hundreds of people whom she'd never met before but who conversed with her as if they'd known her all their lives. Couple that with the headlines she, Harry, and Ron created daily in nearly every major Wizarding publication, and almost nothing stayed private anymore.

As for the awards, she'd conceded that there was very little she could do. She'd accepted her Order of Merlin with a forced smile, then locked the thing away, resolving never to look at it again. The money, of course, was completely unnecessary – Hermione had saved a small but comfortable sum for herself over the years, and she was sure the unwanted Galleons should be used to repair war damages, not inflate her bank account – but the Ministry refused to take it back.

"You defeated You-Know-Who," an official had told her when she'd voiced her protestations. "It's the least we can do!"

"The least you can do is leave me alone," she'd thought, but she'd given up that particular fight nonetheless – it just wasn't worth it. Instead, she, Harry, and Ron had teamed up and anonymously donated a generous amount to three places sorely in need of finances: Gringotts, Hogwarts, and St. Mungo's. The first two, of course, had been badly damaged during the war – in the case of Gringotts, the damage was entirely the trio's fault, thanks to their adventures in the Lestrange vault, and they felt the need to make up for what they'd done, and Hogwarts was too much of a home for them to ignore. St. Mungo's had come to no harm but was now overflowing with patients suffering from effects related to Dark curses, and Hermione had been adamant that their donation would greatly help the Healers' research efforts. The contributions were as large as they dared, but as each of them now had a Gringotts vault to rival the Malfoys', they couldn't give too much without their identities being discovered. The last thing they wanted was another slew of headlines or a series of gaudy plaques in their "honor" at the three sites.

Of the immediate post-war efforts, the hardest part by far was the trials. As individuals highly involved in the war, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were often called to testify. The only trial Hermione willingly attended was that of the Malfoys – she'd thought long and hard about it, and although she couldn't deny Draco's status as her childhood bully and tormentor, she couldn't reconcile schoolyard grudges with a sentence in Azkaban. In all probability, Draco had saved their lives by refusing to identify them at the manor last Easter, and Hermione wasn't about to forget that so soon. Couple that with what Harry had told her and Ron about the night of Dumbledore's death, and she couldn't in good conscience stay silent with regards to her former nemesis.

Unfortunately, the Malfoy trial was by far one of the most straightforward of the summer. Narcissa had been cleared first, after Harry had related the events in the Forbidden Forest – if Narcissa hadn't lied, he'd argued, Voldemort would have killed him for real, leaving the Dark side victorious. Sparing the Chosen One's life clearly held high merit in the eyes of the jury, as Narcissa had been cleared of all charges.

Draco was next. Harry told the assembly what had really happened the night Dumbledore died, and Hermione gave an account of their stay at Malfoy Manor as well as the trio's observations of Draco's slow but steady breakdown during their sixth year. She wasn't sure if being a minor made a difference in the Wizarding world, but she made sure the jury was aware of Draco's age when certain events occurred just in case. Ron hadn't had much to add, but he contributed positively as he could – he still hated Malfoy but had to admit that Harry's point about the Slytherin's aversion to murder was believable. In the end, Draco had been sentenced to house arrest for the remainder of the summer and all school vacations for the upcoming year should he decide to return to Hogwarts, or for the duration of one calendar year if he did not.

Lucius had been tried last, and it was here that the trio found the most difficulty, because none of them really had anything positive to say about the elder Malfoy. Hermione recalled his sneer as he realized what her parents were, his inhumane treatment of Dobby, his contempt as he knowingly gave Ginny Weasley a harmful Dark object, and his eagerness for his son to identify her and her friends just a few short months ago. Try as she might to find a redeeming quality, she came up short. In the end, she left the testifying to others with more knowledge than she and didn't say anything at all. After much deliberation, Lucius had been given one year of house arrest – an exceptionally light sentence given his history, she thought, but she wasn't about to extend the already too-long trial by arguing against the verdict.

The night after the Malfoys' trial, Hermione flopped down on her bed at the Burrow, completely exhausted.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this, Gin," she groaned, sinking back into the pillows.

"Honestly Hermione, I don't know how you've made it this far," came the response. "If I were you, I'd have left the country by now."

"You know I can't do that," Hermione protested. "There's still so much to be done-"

"Hermione," Ginny interrupted, "You've already saved the Wizarding world – anything else they expect of you is just too much, after what you've been through. I know you have this compulsive need to help, but you need to take some time for yourself too."

"I – you're right, Gin," Hermione conceded. "It's just hard, after being in the thick of it for so long, to even think of cutting back as an option."

"What do you want, Hermione? For yourself?" The question was simple but loaded at the same time. Hermione had been so focused on the Horcrux hunt, on fulfilling her promise to Harry, that she hadn't given her own desires much thought in quite a while.

"I want to find my parents," she finally said. "I know it'll be hard, but I won't be able to live with myself if I don't at least try. I want to do it alone – Harry and Ron probably won't understand, but I need to get away for a bit. And then…" What came next? It was so hard to think about day-to-day things when you'd just come out of a war.

"I want things to be normal for once," she decided. To her surprise, Ginny snorted.

"Hermione, you live in the Wizarding world," the redhead said. "There's no such thing as 'normal'." Hermione laughed.

"True," she conceded. "Alright then, I'd like things to be as close to normal as they can get around here." She paused and looked at her friend. "It's good to see you smile again, Gin," she said softly. The Weasleys had been hit hard by Fred's loss, and the mood at the Burrow had been highly subdued for quite some time. Hermione had been grateful for Molly's offer to stay for as long as she needed – she couldn't face her parents' house alone – but she often felt like an outsider intruding on their pain. Any semblance of a smile, a feeble attempt at a joke, was a beacon of hope for the distraught family.

"Thank you, Hermione." Ginny squeezed her friend's hand affectionately. "It's been hard, but I'm getting through; we all are. If you don't mind, I think I'd like to try to find that semblance of normal with you." Hermione smiled and squeezed back.

"Of course."


	2. Tea with the Headmistress

**A/N: Thank you to Anjana Bhargavan, Icelynne, I heart Star Trek, Kazumichan294, NazChick, Orli's babe, and malfoyshorcrux for the follows, as well as I heart Star Trek for the review - glad you like it so far, &amp; yay fellow music major! (Yes I check out the profiles of my readers - you're reading my stuff, it's only fair if I return the favor.)**

**Here's chapter 2 - hope it keeps you interested! JKR owns all as always. Please let me know what you think, &amp; enjoy! :-)**

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A week into July, Hermione received a letter, eagerly ripping it open when she saw the official Hogwarts seal.

_Miss Granger,_ it said, _I would be most appreciative if you would join me for tea this Friday at three in my office – I will connect to the Floo network for the afternoon. There are some things I think we should discuss. _The short missive was signed, _Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress._

Hermione sent back a reply in the affirmative and spent the rest of the afternoon puzzling over the note. Of course Professor McGonagall would have been made Headmistress – she'd been Deputy Headmistress before the war and the most senior staff member after Dumbledore – but Hermione had no idea what the elder witch wanted to discuss with her. Harry and Ron had no useful suggestions, and Ginny merely said she should go see what McGonagall wanted. Having already agreed to go, Hermione was forced to find something else to occupy her time until Friday rolled around.

Friday afternoon finally arrived, and Hermione found herself facing the large fireplace in the Weasleys' living room, a small handful of glittery powder clutched tightly in her fist. She'd fretted for nearly half an hour over what to wear to her meeting – all her robes were still at her parents' house – before Ginny had kindly but firmly pointed out that it was just Professor McGonagall, someone she'd known for seven years, and that it was too hot for robes anyway. Hermione acknowledged that her friend was right and donned a light cardigan over a simple sundress, slipping her feet into a pair of slightly dressy but comfortable leather sandals. At exactly three o'clock, she dropped the Floo powder into the flames, called out her destination, and vanished in a whirl of smoke.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger – punctual as always, I see." Hermione flicked her wand over herself to remove any trace of ash and smiled at her host.

"It's so good to see you, Professor…but if you don't mind my asking, why are you still in this office?" The first thing Hermione had noticed upon stepping out of the fireplace was that she'd arrived not in the Headmaster's office as she'd expected, but in the Transfiguration office.

"This is still my office, Hermione. I have not yet found a suitable replacement for my old post, so I will be continuing to teach Transfiguration in addition to my new duties. Besides, the poor gargoyle guarding the Head's office is taking a well-deserved break, and I'm not sure I could bring myself to move any of Albus's things just yet."

"Won't that be a bit much, Professor?" Hermione asked after the solemn silence Dumbledore's name evoked had passed. "I mean, teaching while running the school."

"Yes, of course it will, but everyone will be taking on a little bit extra this year, perhaps for a few years after as well. Hogwarts, as you know, suffered greatly while you were gone, and the recovery won't happen overnight. I am fully prepared to do what I must to get this school up and running again."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said earnestly, gazing fondly at her former Head of House. "That means a lot, really."

"You're most welcome, dear. Now, let's have tea while we talk some things over." Professor McGongall conjured up a tray filled with the necessary accoutrements and Summoned her biscuit tin from her desk. There was silence for a few minutes as the two witches prepared their tea and selected their treats, then Professor McGonagall continued.

"I'm sure you've heard by now the two options available to students in your year?" she asked.

"Yes," Hermione answered, "I saw the article in the _Prophet._" The article in question, published several weeks prior, had sported some terribly cliché headline that she'd immediately forgotten – they all ran together nowadays – but the information within had filled her heart with happiness. Due to the circumstances of the previous year, many of Hermione's classmates had missed at least a part, if not the entirety of their seventh year. To make up for it, the affected class had two options: they could return to Hogwarts as "eighth years" to complete their schooling, or they could take a series of modified exams in lieu of their N.E.W.T.s at the end of the summer, which would allow them to proceed directly into the workforce. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind which was the path for her.

"What do you think you will do?"

"I fully intend to come back, of course." The elder witch's lips turned up a small smile.

"I didn't doubt that for a second, but it's still nice to hear it come directly from you."

"Hogwarts is my home, Professor. I'm not ready to leave just yet – although I must admit I'm being a bit selfish as well."

"Selfish? How so?"

"Because if I come back to Hogwarts, things will be normal again, if only for a little while."

"I understand, Miss Granger." Professor McGonagall's smile seemed a little sad. She knew all about Hermione's loathing of all the publicity, as well as her added stress regarding the situation with her parents, so she knew exactly what Hermione meant by her statement.

"Since you plan to return, I have a few other questions for you. Firstly, how do you feel about the Head Girl position?" Hermione's response was immediate.

"I don't want it," she said. "In another time, I'd have been ecstatic at the thought, but now, I have to decline. I've been through too much and just want a year to be me. Purely selfish, I know, but no thank you. I had my time as a prefect; let a proper seventh year be the Head Girl."

"On the contrary, I think your reasoning is perfectly sound," the Scottish witch countered. "In that case, my first choice for Head Girl would be Laura Roberts. She is a Ravenclaw and very much like you – do you know her?"

"No, I don't," Hermione said. "What year is she?"

"She is a year below you," Professor McGonagall said. "She fled to America last summer with her family to escape Ministry persecution – her father is Muggle-born – but she kept up with her schooling as an exchange student at the Salem Witches' Institute and was highly involved in the war effort there."

"She sounds perfect for the position," Hermione said approvingly. "Who's the Head Boy?"

"Kevin Summerby, a Hufflepuff. I believe he played Seeker for their Quidditch team. He was here for most of last year and fought in the final battle." Hermione nodded.

"I think you've chosen well, Professor," she said.

"Thank you, Hermione. I shan't be giving eighth years any such positions, as you are a bit of a special circumstance, but I would still like to ask you a favor."

"Yes?"

"We both know that you would've been Head Girl had last year gone differently. While I obviously cannot give you that position, I think both Heads – and myself – would appreciate an extra hand. If you're willing, I'd like you to be a supervisor of sorts – you would have no patrols or other such duties, but you would be available to help if needed." Hermione was quiet for a moment as she contemplated the offer, then nodded.

"Yes, I think that'd be alright," she said. "Thank you, Professor."

"You're very welcome. I expect we'll be facing some challenges this year where the extra help will come in handy."

"I can only imagine the problems just involving the Slytherins. There's bound to be a lot of backlash." Hermione paused and frowned. "After all the trouble house rivalries have caused, is it really wise to even have houses this year?"

"It's a fair question, and one I've considered thoroughly," Professor McGonagall admitted. "For now, at least, the house system will have to be put on hold – the Sorting Hat was badly damaged by Voldemort's spell, and although Professor Flitwick has been hard at work on it, he doubts it'll be fully functional by the start of term. The hat is essentially a sentient being, making the necessary repairs both extremely delicate and extremely complex. The prefects will still be drawn evenly from the four houses in order to avoid issues when the Sorting can indeed take place, but Hogwarts will be house-less otherwise. We have converted a space in the castle into a temporary dormitory for the incoming first years, and although the upper years will still live in their house spaces for the sake of convenience, class schedules will be completely mixed and the Great Hall rearranged to encourage positive inter-house relationships."

"Do you think it will work?" Hermione asked slowly.

"To be honest, I don't know," Professor McGonagall said, a hint of doubt in her tone, "but we won't know unless we try. Albus was definitely right when he called us stronger united than divided, and I think Hogwarts could use some strength.

"While we're on the subject, there's one other thing I'd like to discuss." Hermione glanced up at her professor, noticing the cautious look in the older woman's eyes. "I will be sending official letters to your class regarding their options very soon, and I intend to extend the same opportunity to everyone. Do you agree with this decision? I understand that your history with certain people might lead you to disagree." By 'certain people,' Hermione knew she meant Draco Malfoy. She considered her words carefully before voicing them.

"Professor," she said, "neither of us can deny that we've seen some horrible things in the last few years. People have lied, people have tortured, people have killed. The Wizarding world is still on its knees, and most people's lives have changed forever. That said, Harry told me something recently that Professor Dumbledore once told him: 'It is our choices, far more than our abilities, that show who we truly are.' I know your hesitation primarily refers to Draco Malfoy, and I can appreciate your concerns. However, while Draco certainly had the ability to commit some truly horrible atrocities, he chose not to. We all know he didn't – couldn't – kill Professor Dumbledore, and his reluctance to betray Harry, Ron, and I to his aunt last April most likely saved our lives. Strange as it may sound, I am indebted to him for that, and I'm willing to give him a second chance. Dumbledore saw the potential for good in him, and we both know Dumbledore's instincts were almost always right. If Dumbledore could do that, then so can I."

"Miss Granger, you are wise beyond your years," Professor McGonagall replied. "I'm honored to have had the pleasure of teaching you and look forward to this year very much." Hermione blushed at the rare praise. "Albus did know what he was talking about – the whole business with Professor Snape certainly proves that. I will honor your request and include Mr. Malfoy in my correspondence."

"Thank you again, Professor, for everything," Hermione said sincerely as she stood to leave. "I can't tell you how happy I am to be back."

"Likewise, Hermione. Enjoy the rest of your holidays; I'll be in touch soon." Hermione smiled once more, and after promising to pass along well wishes to those at the Burrow, stepped into the fireplace once more. She had a lot to think about.


	3. Difficult, but not Impossible

**A/N: Thank you Jessicada and WilsDragon for following/favoriting! To my guest reviewer, yes, there is definitely more to come! Hope you all like this next chapter. JKR owns all, as always. R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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Draco Malfoy sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the piece of parchment in his hands, rereading the letter for the fifteenth time – or quite possibly the fiftieth, he wasn't really sure:

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_I believe it goes without saying that your graduating class experienced a severe disruption in magical education last year due to the events of the war. The Hogwarts Board of Governors, faculty, and staff have met extensively with the Ministry of Magic on how to remedy this situation, and we are pleased to offer the Hogwarts Class of 1998 the following options:_

_1\. All members of the affected class are invited to return to Hogwarts as "eighth year" students. Those who choose to do so will combine with the Class of 1999 to pursue the typical seventh-year curriculum, with the ultimate goal of sitting the N.E.W.T. exams next spring. Students electing this option should expect an owl with further information later in the summer._

_2\. For students who do not wish to pursue Option One, the Hogwarts faculty have created a series of shortened examinations, which will be offered at the Ministry of Magic on the fifteenth of August. The Ministry will honor the scores of these exams in the same way as those of the N.E.W.T.s, and students will be free to enter the professional world as they please. Again, students electing this option will receive further details at a later date._

_As time is of the essence, we request a response indicating your preferred choice no later than 31 July. Please direct your correspondence to Professor Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress, Attn: Class of 1998. We wish you a pleasant holiday and offer our sincerest regards, whatever your choice may be._

_Professor Filius Flitwick, Deputy Headmaster_

Sweet Salazar, was this somebody's idea of a sick joke? Nobody would want him at Hogwarts, and the idea of anyone wanting to hire a Malfoy after all that had happened was just plain laughable. Not that he could get a job anyway – he was on house arrest, after all – but the thought of just sitting back and doing nothing for the rest of his life didn't appeal to him, not after the war. At the very least, a job would give him something to do, something to take his mind off everything. Unfortunately, his sentence meant that option two wasn't a viable one. That left him two choices: take the exam in August and then wait around the manor until he was free to even consider doing anything else, or return to Hogwarts and face the wrath of…well, everyone. Neither offer seemed appealing in the slightest.

When he'd first received the letter, Draco had actually laughed aloud at the mere thought of going back to Hogwarts. After all, who really knew all that had happened in the last two years? Potter had told the truth when he'd testified at Draco's trial, but how many people had believed him? The _Prophet_ spouted rubbish so frequently, Draco figured that most people who'd read the coverage of his trial – which did _not_ include him; he'd had more than enough during the actual event, thank you very much – either wrote it off as more useless drivel or took it merely for gossip. Even the fact that the words came from the Boy Wonder himself didn't help – too many people mistrusted the _Prophet _still, refusing to believe anything even semi-serious printed in its pages without confirmation from at least one unrelated source. Long story short, the chances that many students would still think him a heartless murderer were incredibly high.

However, the more he thought about it, the more Draco realized that option two would leave him miserable. It wasn't the exam – he'd always been near the top of his class and had no doubt he could manage a semi-respectable score – but rather what came after: nothing. It had barely been six weeks since his trial and he was already going stir crazy. He still had his wand, thank Merlin – his father's had been confiscated for the first six months of his sentence, and his magic would be closely tracked for the latter six to ensure good behavior – but Draco wasn't allowed visitors, and there were only so many times he could fly around the grounds or pace the rose garden. He really didn't want to think about how bored he'd get if he were forced to remain exclusively within the manor's confines for the next eleven months.

There were two other things that Draco's Malfoy pride kept him from admitting aloud, but he couldn't deny they were true – he was lonely, and he missed Hogwarts. Yes, he'd spent a great deal of time complaining about the place when he was younger, loudly voicing his displeasure with Dumbledore's administration, but the fact of the matter was that Hogwarts felt like home more than the manor ever had. Hogwarts was noisy and chaotic and full of morons, but it also offered Draco sanctuary from his oppressive father, the company of hundreds of people his own age, and the chance to indulge in Quidditch and other things he truly enjoyed. In short, Hogwarts gave Draco a chance to be himself, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized he'd never really taken the school up on that chance. He'd spent the first five years of his time there parroting his father by taunting those "beneath" him, his sixth year breaking down every other day as his conscience struggled with an impossible task, and his seventh…no. Last year didn't count. He'd been _at_ Hogwarts last year, but he hadn't been at _Hogwarts_.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Draco, darling? May I come in?"

"Yes, Mother." The door opened softly, and Narcissa Malfoy made her way into the room. She frowned at the troubled look on her son's face.

"What's wrong, my love?" He looked up at his mother – she really did look concerned. In spite of her cold exterior, Narcissa truly cared about her only child – when he'd asked her about what had happened in the Forbidden Forest, she hadn't hesitated to tell him the truth, even offering the memories in a Pensieve when he remained skeptical, and she'd broken down in uncharacteristic tears when he'd finally accepted what he'd seen.

"I don't know what to do about this," he replied, handing her the letter. She was silent for a moment as she read it, then she sighed and sank down on the bed next to her son.

"Oh, Draco…I'm so sorry, my darling. I'm so sorry." She pulled him close and held him tightly, brushing her delicate fingers through his hair.

"What are you sorry for, Mother?" he asked. He couldn't even say how long it had been since he'd experienced such an outward display of affection from her, but he didn't pull away. It felt strange, but it also felt…nice.

"Everything, dear." Gray eyes met blue, silently asking for more, and she continued. "I'm sorry you didn't grow up with the love you deserved – what normal little boy switches from 'Mummy' to 'Mother' at the age of six? I'm sorry you wasted your years at school trying to please your father and only received scorn and disdain in return. I'm sorry you had to go through all you did these last few years, and I'm sorry you're now facing an impossible decision because your parents failed you." Draco felt stray drops hitting his chest and realized she was crying quietly. He sat up and gently brushed away her tears with his fingers.

"Don't cry," he whispered. "Please don't cry." He cleared his throat and returned his voice to a more normal volume. "It's not an impossible decision, just a rather difficult one. I'm sure I'm not the only one having a tough time deciding, though. I've been thinking about it all morning, to be honest, and I know it won't be easy, but I think I know what I want to do."

"Which is?" Narcissa asked. Draco took a deep breath and told her his decision. She smiled softly and hugged him once more before looking him straight in the eye.

"You are so brave, my love, and I know I haven't said it nearly often enough, but I'm so very, very proud of you." He smiled then, something he hadn't done for real in far too long, and returned her embrace.

"Thank you, Mum."

"You're welcome, sweetheart. I'll leave you to your peace, but you know where to find me if you need me." A kiss to his forehead and several soft clicks of her heels later, she was gone.

Draco turned towards his desk and read the letter one last time. Could he really do this?

Yes. Yes, he could…and he would. He pulled out a blank sheet of parchment, selected his best quill, and began to write:

_Dear Professor McGonagall…_


	4. Letting Go

**A/N: Thank you Modges for following! Two chapters tonight, woohoo! We'll be getting to Hogwarts in a chapter or two. The Australian wizards are my own creation, but everything else belongs to JKR. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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Ten time zones and over 10,000 miles from Wiltshire, Hermione was facing her own inner turmoil. Her body was utterly exhausted – the trip had taken over 24 hours, and although she'd slept well at the hotel afterwards, she still hadn't fully adjusted to the time change – but her emotions had been flip-flopping uncontrollably ever since she'd arrived. After nearly a year, she was finally going to track down her parents – and she was terrified.

Immediately after the war, Hermione had contacted the Australian Ministry of Magic, asking for assistance in locating her parents. The Minister himself had responded, saying he'd be delighted to help in any way he could, even going so far as to offer to pay for the trip. Hermione had kindly but firmly declined that aspect of his offer, insisting that the mission was of a personal nature and would therefore be inappropriate for him to fund. The plane ticket had been incredibly expensive, but Hermione still had her strong sense of morality.

The first dawn of August found Hermione pacing nervously in front of the visitors' entrance to the Australian Ministry, trying to calm herself enough to enter the building. Unlike the British Ministry, its Australian counterpart was right in downtown Sydney, in a modern-looking office building. Hermione suspected the enchantments hiding it were similar to those of Grimmauld Place, as the passing Muggles didn't seem to see anything out of the ordinary. Finally, she summoned her courage, looked to make sure no Muggles were watching too closely, and stepped inside.

The reception area of the Australian Ministry was drastically different from the British one – the space was significantly smaller, with no outrageous statues and no fireplaces, the latter of which Hermione thought odd until she saw a small sign directing patrons to a separate Floo room on her right-hand side. The highly polished wooden floor was a soft, welcoming shade, and plush couches accompanied by coffee tables overflowing with magazines offered visitors a place to wait in comfort. At the far end of the room was a large desk. Assuming this was where she needed to check in, Hermione made her way over to speak to the witch on duty.

"Morning, miss," the witch said, smiling brightly as soon as she saw Hermione. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione replied. "I have a meeting with Minister Warren at ten o'clock?" The witch scanned her notes and nodded.

"Indeed you do," she said. "May I see your wand, please? It's standard procedure."

"Of course." Hermione handed it over and waited patiently while the receptionist registered her.

"All set," she declared a moment later. "Here is your visitors' badge; please keep it on your person at all times. The lifts are just down that hall to your left, and you'll find the Minister's office on the top floor."

"Thank you very much," Hermione said with a smile. She walked off in the direction indicated and pressed the button for the lift, which appeared almost immediately. The ascent was a long one – she was in a skyscraper, after all – but a hidden radio serenaded her with popular Wizarding tunes, and she'd almost forgotten her anxious mood by the time she'd reached the top. When the lift doors opened, Hermione found the Minister's office at the end of a short corridor, took a deep breath, and knocked.

"Come in!" Hermione complied and soon found herself facing the Australian Minister.

"Ah, you must be Miss Granger!" he said. "Please, have a seat." Jeff Warren was nothing like Cornelius Fudge or Rufus Scrimgeour – he was much younger, for one thing, and his jovial demeanor immediately put Hermione at ease.

"Can I get you anything, Miss Granger?" he asked. "Tea? Coffee?"

"Just some water, if it's not too much trouble. And please, call me Hermione."

"Hermione it is then." He procured the requested water, then got right down to business.

"So, Hermione. It seems you're here because you're looking for someone, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir. My parents."

"Tell me the full story again, if you don't mind? I'd like to make sure I've got my facts straight before I go any further." She obliged, leaving nothing out as she explained what she'd done and her reasons for doing so.

"So what you're saying is that you planted a lifetime's worth of false memories in your parents, memories strong enough to suppress their true histories," Jeff said when she'd finished. Hermione nodded.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Nineteen in September," Hermione replied. He whistled.

"That's advanced magic for someone three times your age," he said. "It might be rather impudent of me to say so, given the circumstances, but I'm impressed." Hermione shrugged.

"I did what I had to do," she acknowledged. "Personally, I think I'm very lucky that nothing went wrong. Now, all I want is to set things right – and that's why I'm here, because I understand the reversal is even more difficult than the initial spell, and I can't afford to mess it up. I've been through so much in the past year, and I'm not sure I trust myself to keep it together long enough to do it properly, especially given who they are."

"I understand, Hermione. I know it doesn't even come close to what Britain experienced, but Australia didn't get off scot-free in the war either." He paused, his expression grim. "Too many good people lost too much – it hurts me to see my people hurting, so if I can help just one good person gain something back, I'll do it." Hermione somehow understood that by 'my people,' he meant all of Wizard-kind, not just those of Australian background, and she was touched at his genuine concern and eagerness to help.

"Thank you, Minister. I really appreciate it. What do we have to do?" She pulled parchment and quill from her bag, poising herself to take notes as the Minister outlined his plan.

The following afternoon, Hermione found herself standing outside a small cottage approximately an hour outside the city proper. Two experienced Obliviators, whom she'd met yesterday during her meeting with Minister Warren, stood behind her. They'd told Hermione that her best chance of success came if she herself were the primary spell caster for the reversal, but they'd be there to lend her their wands, as well as their advice and emotional support, should she need them. Hermione was extremely grateful – despite what she'd told Harry, Ron, and Ginny, she wasn't sure she could do this alone. She knocked, fidgeting with her sleeves as she waited. All too soon, the door opened, revealing a very familiar face.

_"Stupefy!" _The woman crumpled to the floor in a heap. Hermione didn't really like the idea of Stunning her parents, but she'd acknowledged that it'd be much easier to cast such a complicated spell if they did – after all, Wendell and Monica Wilkins had no idea who she was and were therefore bound to put up a fight if strangers broke into their home and began chanting.

"Monica? Everything alright, dear?" A tall man appeared at the end of the entry hall, having just come in from what Hermione glimpsed to be the kitchen. He barely had time to register the scene before him, a shocked expression on his face, before he joined his wife in temporary sleep.

"Let's get them in the sitting room – they'll be more comfortable," one of the Australians said. Hermione nodded, and the three quickly repositioned the Grangers on the sofa.

"Ready?" Hermione let out a long, slow breath before answering.

"Yes." She raised her wand, letting the incantation fall from her lips like a prayer, and watched in wonder as a massive stream of pure white light burst from the end of her wand, entirely enveloping her parents. The Obliviators added their magic to the spell – power-wise, it wasn't necessary, as Hermione's magical strength was more than enough, but her emotions were threatening to burst at any moment, and their lack of personal connection maintained the stability necessary for the complex spell.

Several long minutes later, it was over. Hermione was visibly trembling as she looked at the still forms of her parents. In just a few moments, they would know exactly what their only daughter had done.

_"Ennervate."_ She cast the spell before she had any more time to fret, and her parents began to stir. It only took them a few confused seconds to notice the teenager wringing her hands in front of them.

"Hermione?" her mother asked softly.

"Oh, Mum!" Hermione cried. She threw herself into her parents' arms, shaking uncontrollably. For so long since the war had ended, she'd kept her emotions bottled up inside her, away from the prying eyes of the press, but now, she didn't have to. Finally able to let go of everything, Hermione Granger broke down and cried.


	5. Confessions and Quandaries

**A/N: Thank you I heart Star Trek and Modges for the reviews! I totally agree - I can only imagine how difficult a situation it would be for both Hermione &amp; her parents, &amp; I hope you like the direction I decided to go with it.  
Next chapter: back to Hogwarts! JKR owns all, I'm just spinning my own plot in her brilliant world. Please R&amp;R, &amp; I hope you enjoy! :)**

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The first step was anger.

After Hermione had cried until she could cry no more, her parents had demanded to know what was going on. As she'd explained just what she'd done, she noticed her mother's mouth becoming an increasingly thinner line, highly reminiscent of Professor McGonagall, and the frown lines of her father's forehead deepening. Hermione had thought her initial explanation woefully inadequate – judging by her parents' furious expressions, they weren't satisfied either. They hadn't said anything, but the barely audible hiss of air from her mother's flaring nostrils and the glare on her father's face said it all.

The second step was horror.

"I know you must be furious with me," Hermione had said, her voice small, "but please give me a chance to explain. Please." A curt nod from her father had been her only response, but she'd taken it as a positive sign and continued. She told them as much as she felt comfortable sharing about the events from the end of her sixth year through the present time. She told them about Dumbledore's murder, about Bill and Fleur's wedding, and about being on the run, the incredible weight of their task bearing down on them as they struggled to merely find food. She even told them about the Battle of Hogwarts, although she choked up several times as she did so and had to sip repeatedly from the glass of water one of the Australian wizards had thought to procure for her. As she spun her tale, she noticed her mother's frown slowly disappear to be replaced by a look of shock, and her father's grip on her mother's shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly.

"What…what happened after the battle?" her mother had asked, her voice faltering slightly. Hermione's voice had been hoarse from all the talking, but there had been more to tell, and so she'd launched into an explanation of her life since the end of the war – the unwanted attention, the never-ending pageantry, the exhausting trials, and the prospect of rebuilding.

"I hate it all," she'd said quietly when she'd finished. "All I wanted was to come find you and try to put things right. I know it can't make up for what I've done, but I'm so, so sorry." Unable to say any more, Hermione had stared at her hands clenched tightly in her lap, silently willing her parents to say something…_anything._

The third step was reconciliation.

"Oh, Hermione." After such a lengthy silence, her mother's soft moan was almost deafening in the small room. "Oh, sweetheart…I'm the one that's sorry. I can't deny I'm angry at you for what you did, but I understand why you did it." At this, Hermione had broken down in sobs once more as her parents pulled her close.

"Shh," her mother had soothed. "I'm so sorry, darling. If I could make it all go away for you, I would, I really would. Don't cry, it'll be alright. We're here."

Hermione had flown back to England with her parents as soon as they'd set their affairs in order – with some help from Minister Warren, it had taken a surprisingly short time – and the Grangers were soon settled in their suburban London home, the family dental practice up and running once more and their old routine reestablished. In the two weeks since, Hermione had enjoyed extensive time with her parents such that she hadn't had since she'd started at Hogwarts. The only tense moment came when she confessed that she intended to return to school. At first, her parents had protested vehemently – "You've had more than enough trouble to last you a lifetime," her mother had said – but Hermione argued how important it was for her to obtain her credentials, something she couldn't even consider in a Muggle school at this point, and they'd had to concede defeat. She knew they weren't entirely thrilled with the situation, but she also knew they understood how much Hogwarts meant to her, and she was eternally grateful to them for accepting her decision. After all she'd put them through, she couldn't have asked for more.

The fifteenth of August found the Grangers at the Burrow, where it had become something of a habit for everyone to congregate for dinner on a weekly basis. Mrs. Granger was helping Molly in the kitchen, and Mr. Granger had disappeared with Arthur long ago, no doubt off to the garage to talk batteries, plugs, or cars. Hermione herself was in Ginny's room, and the two girls were rereading their latest correspondence from Hogwarts while they waited for Harry and Ron to get home. Unlike Hermione, the boys had decided not to return to school, so they were currently at the Ministry taking their substitute N.E.W.T.s.

"McGonagall's not messing around this year, is she?" Ginny murmured as she perused her letter. "'Let it be known that all students, regardless of their status during the war, have been offered the chance to return to Hogwarts should they so choose, and prejudice of any kind will not be tolerated.'"

"Can you really blame her, Gin?" Hermione asked. "This year's bound to be tough – I can only imagine some of the things we're going to have to deal with. It kind of makes me sad – I mean, so many of us were forced into impossible situations, but a lot of students probably won't see it that way. They won't understand."

"I think that's part of the reason why McGonagall's giving you lot a separate dormitory," Ginny said quietly. "Most of the school didn't fight, they're too young. You'll need a place where you can be with others who understand your situation." Ginny had hit the nail on the head with her reasoning there, and as much as Hermione was going to miss the familiar warmth of Gryffindor Tower, she knew that the separate space was the much better scenario.

"It'll be weird not taking the train though," she said wistfully. "Professor McGonagall wants us to Floo to Hogwarts earlier in the day, so she can show us our common room and explain some of the finer details before the feast."

"I know, but you'll take the train at the holidays," Ginny replied with a wave of her hand. "Besides, do you really want people trying to hunt you down for an autograph the entire trip, or to face the droves of reporters who'll take over Platform 9 ¾ if they know you're coming?" Hermione grimaced.

"No, definitely not."

"Didn't think so. What do you think about that Defense idea, then?"

Hermione and Ginny's latest envelopes from Hogwarts had been rather thicker than usual. Behind the letter welcoming them back and the list of required materials for the upcoming term was a second letter, which contained a rather unexpected inquiry:

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_Although the Hogwarts faculty is delighted to welcome a new Muggle Studies professor to its ranks, we still find ourselves with vacancies in Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts. As you already know, I will be retaining my teaching duties for the upcoming year, but I regret to admit that the Defense position remains open – quite honestly, I haven't the faintest idea how Albus managed to pull through as many times as he did with regards to this particular problem. In the aftermath of the war, Defense Against the Dark Arts is arguably the most important subject offered at Hogwarts, which leaves us in a quandary. _

_Various professors have kindly offered to teach a Defense class or two in addition to their normal duties, but we still lack enough coverage for all of the class years. I'm sure you'll agree that the best Defense teachers are those with direct experience, which brings me to my current proposition. If you are agreeable to the suggestion, the seventh- and eighth-year groups will be left in the hands of the senior members of Dumbledore's Army – Mr. Longbottom, Miss Lovegood, Miss Weasley, and yourself. Two Ministry Aurors will be assigned to the class as well and will stop in as time permits to offer additional help, but as this would realistically occur only once a month, the brunt of the work will fall to the students themselves. I fully believe you more than capable of high success, given your records with the subject and (unfortunately extensive) real-world applications, but I wanted to give you a chance to consider the matter before we set it in stone. Please let me know what you think as soon as possible, and I look forward to seeing you in September._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress_

Hermione and Ginny had discussed the idea at length and finally decided to accept – as odd as the thought of teaching their own classmates was, they couldn't deny that it was, in fact, a rather reasonable suggestion, and they knew that their class year, as the oldest, would be the easiest to leave in such an unconventional situation. Harry had generously offered them the multi-volume set of Defense books he'd once received from Lupin and Sirius, and Hermione already had a long list of spells she felt it might be useful for others to know.

"You know what I think, Gin," Hermione said. "It'll be really strange teaching our mates, but the idea is brilliant, not to mention it'll be another bonding experience for those who need it most. Besides, it means Neville's coming back." The two girls had always enjoyed an amiable relationship with Neville, and both greatly looked forward to seeing their friend again.

Two sharp _cracks _signaled the arrival of the boys.

"Blimey, that was difficult!" Ron announced without preamble as he threw himself unceremoniously onto Ginny's bed. "I'm never taking exams again!"

"Ron, you plan to be an Auror," Hermione chided. "You think there aren't any exams in Auror training?" Ron flushed and grinned sheepishly.

"Yeah, well…a man can dream, can't he?" he asked, sitting up and giving Hermione a squeeze. They'd acknowledged the elephant in the room months ago – neither could deny that the kiss they'd shared during the Battle of Hogwarts had been so necessary, but so _wrong_ at the same time, and both had admitted that while they might have had feelings for each other in the past, those feelings had long since disappeared. Beyond elated that neither party had been hurt, the two had arguably become closer than ever before.

"How'd it go for you, Harry?" Hermione asked her raven-haired friend as she hugged him too.

"Well enough, I guess," he answered, reaching over to peck Ginny's cheek. "We'll find out how we did next week and hopefully be working by September."

"Works for me," Ginny said. "In the meantime, I suggest we go extract our fathers from the garage and enjoy some of Mum's cooking."

"Excellent, I'm starved!" Ron cried. Chuckling at his ever-present appetite, the four friends made their way down the stairs, following the tantalizing smells towards the promise of a delicious meal spent in pleasant company.


	6. Coming Home

**A/N: Thank you TheMidnightWolf15 &amp; qwertyuiop99 for following/favoriting! **

**We're finally back at Hogwarts - hope you like this chapter. As always, JKR owns it all. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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"Are you sure you have everything, dear?"

"Yes, Molly, I'm sure." Hermione smiled at Mrs. Weasley's motherly tendencies as she checked the lock on her trunk one last time. Ginny was long gone, the Hogwarts Express having left at its usual time of eleven o'clock, but Hermione wasn't expected to Floo to Hogwarts until later that afternoon, so most of the redheaded clan had returned to the Burrow to spend the remaining time playing Exploding Snap and enjoying a last lunch before her departure. Now, she found herself caught up in a flurry of hugs and kisses as they wished her well. After reassuring them all one last time that she'd write often, Hermione dropped her Floo powder into the fireplace and disappeared.

A short spin later, Hermione found herself once more in the Transfiguration office.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall greeted her. "We're just waiting for Mr. Longbottom to return from the greenhouses; please feel free to help yourself to anything while you wait." She gestured towards a tea spread on the table, around which sat five students: Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley, a Ravenclaw girl whose name she couldn't remember, Blaise Zabini, and Draco Malfoy. Hermione was a bit surprised to see the blonde but didn't question him, instead giving her classmates a nervous smile as she took one of the empty chairs. They sat in awkward silence for nearly ten minutes before Neville arrived.

"Sorry about that, Professor," he said. "Took a bit longer than we thought to finish up with the Mandrakes." He grinned broadly when he saw Hermione.

"Not to worry, Mr. Longbottom. Now then, if you'll all follow me, please." The scraping of chairs against the stone floor was the only sound they made as the group shuffled out the door and down the corridor. After a short walk, Professor McGonagall stopped outside what seemed to be a plain slab of wood roughly the size of a door, but there was no handle. The only remarkable thing about it was a beautiful carving of Hogwarts done delicately at eye level.

"Your password is _'Canis Musica'_," Professor McGonagall stated. As she spoke the words, a small brass doorknob materialized before them. "I believe Miss Granger might understand the significance of such a password." The corner of her mouth quirked up in a slight smile, and Hermione stopped, a look of comprehension slowly spreading across her face.

"We're on the third floor, aren't we?" she asked, fighting back a smile of her own.

"Indeed we are, Miss Granger. I expect you'll explain it to your classmates later." Professor McGonagall still looked amused as she beckoned them inside.

Hermione couldn't help the soft gasp that escaped her lips as she took in the sight of the common room before her. The furniture was simplistic in style but stained an elegant reddish-brown color, and the couches, upholstered in a soft tan material, looked extremely comfortable. The gray stone fireplace on her right gave warmth to the whole room without feeling overbearing, and the ivory carpet felt plush beneath her feet. To the left, a small table flanked by two empty bookcases promised to be a perfect homework spot, and two identical doors on the far wall led to what Hermione presumed were the dormitories. A baby grand piano sat in the far corner behind the couches, its polished surface gleaming softly in the firelight. The only deviance from the muted color scheme was the large purple banner emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest that hung over the fireplace. Hermione had to admit it was probably the most beautiful room she'd seen to date in the castle.

"Please make yourselves at home," Professor McGonagall requested. The seven students complied, settling onto the sofas and chairs around the fire as they waited for their Headmistress to speak. If possible, the furniture was even more comfortable than it looked.

"I understand you may have questions, but please refrain from interrupting until I finish explaining," she began. The teenagers nodded their assent, and she continued.

"You seven are the only ones who chose to return from your year – unfortunate, yes, but it can't be helped. Whatever your reasoning, we're glad to have you back, and hopefully we can make it worth your while.

"In terms of your academics, you will be, for all intents and purposes, seventh years. You will share classes with the true seventh years, and you will study for and sit the N.E.W.T.s in your chosen subjects next June. However, there will be a few differences. For one, as you are all of age, you will be allowed to visit Hogsmeade whenever you wish, although I must ask that you inform me of your departure before you do so – given the current situation in the Wizarding world, I think you'll find that a reasonable request." A couple of the students nodded.

"Second, because you are technically not true seventh years, none of you are allowed to hold positions of authority. Miss Granger has kindly offered to assist in a sort of supervisory position, but she has none of the power associated with the Prefects or the Head students. As your group is technically House-less and will remain so even after the eventual Sorting, I will be acting as your Head of House, although you are always welcome to speak to any other professor of your choosing, and our new Head students are always available as well.

"Finally, I think it goes without saying that we've all had a rough time of it recently. This common room was designed to give you a place of sanctuary. You are free to invite other students in as you see fit, but please exercise caution when doing so, as your password will not be changing this term. I hope this year will make up for what you've all missed, but we can't pretend we won't be facing some challenges. Please know that, if necessary, you have the option to take your meals here – you will be required to join the rest of the school in the Great Hall for all feasts, but what you do the rest of the time is up to you. We want you to feel like you belong here, but we want you to also have the chance to get away if need be." Her speech finished, Professor McGonagall glanced over at the little clock on the mantle.

"The Welcoming Feast begins at six, at which time you will need to be downstairs in the Great Hall. Until then, you are free to do as you please. You'll find your dormitories through those two doors – girls on the left, boys on the right. If you have any questions, I'll be in my office until five-thirty." With a nod to them all, Professor McGonagall left the room, the door shutting behind her with a soft _click._ For a few moments, no one spoke, then Susan finally broke the silence.

"Well…shall we go see the dormitories, then?" she asked. The other students murmured their agreement and rose to their feet, making for the doors at the back of the room.

The dormitory was just as welcoming as the common room had been. Whereas the common room had no windows, the dormitory boasted nearly floor-to-ceiling ones along the back wall, ending just short of a plush window seat. The three girls' beds sat along the left wall – they all looked slightly different, and Hermione was delighted when she realized it was because hers was in fact her bed from Gryffindor Tower. Their trunks sat at the foot of their beds, transported effortlessly thanks to the house-elves' magic, and a spacious wardrobe and a small nightstand flanked each bed. A large circular rug in the same ivory color as that of the common room covered the floor. A door standing ajar on the right wall led to a roomy bathroom, and they could hear the boys exploring their own, which was next to theirs and therefore shared a wall. The room boasted a spectacular view of the lake and the Forbidden Forest, the Quidditch pitch just visible in the distance.

"Not bad at all," the Ravenclaw girl said. "I rather like it." She flopped down on her bed and turned to Hermione.

"I'm Lisa Turpin, by the way. We didn't really have too many classes together." She was a tall girl with straight dark hair that fell past her shoulders and pretty facial features.

"Hermione Granger," Hermione replied. "Lovely to meet you."

"Well of course I know who you are," Lisa said with a laugh, "but good meeting you all the same. I reckon it'll be nice to get to know some other people this year."

"I agree," added Susan, absentmindedly twirling the end of her long plait with her fingers as she spoke. "You get so wrapped up spending time with your housemates that you don't really think too much about the rest of your year – I mean, I don't know about you, but I hardly know anyone who wasn't a Hufflepuff. Pretty sad when you think about it, considering we've all spent the better part of six years together."

"I think the House-less thing will be good," Hermione agreed, "for all of us. The prejudices and stereotypes have caused so much more trouble than they're worth, when you think about it." Susan and Lisa nodded, and they set to unpacking their trunks. In no time at all, everything was in order, and the three girls returned to the common room, chatting amiably.

"Ah, we were starting to wonder where you lot had got to!" Justin said as the girls emerged. The boys were all seated by the fire – Justin and Blaise were playing wizard's chess, and Draco and Neville had books open on their laps, but their silence seemed a much more companionable one than before they'd split up. Hermione, Lisa, and Susan each found a seat, Hermione watching the chess game with interest.

"So what's the deal with the password, Granger?" Blaise asked suddenly. Hermione couldn't help but laugh at his question.

"First off, please call me Hermione." She extended her hand to the dark boy. "A…fresh start, if you will?" she said almost timidly. Blaise laughed at that and shook her hand.

"Alright, then," he said, still chuckling lightly. "Hermione it is. Now, care to explain the password?"

"Do you remember something odd Dumbledore told us at our first Welcoming Feast?" Hermione asked. Two male voices answered simultaneously.

"Dumbledore told us a lot of weird things."

"The third floor corridor on the right was off limits if we didn't want to die."

The first response was Blaise; the second, to everybody's astonishment, was Draco. It was the first he'd spoken since they'd arrived.

"I…well, yes, you're both right," Hermione stammered, "but I was going for the latter." Draco smirked at Blaise, and Hermione felt slightly more at ease seeing the familiar expression. Suddenly, Neville seemed to process just what Draco had said, because he let out a small noise akin to a squeak and said, "That dog!"

"Dog? What dog?" Justin asked.

"The dog was the reason the corridor was off limits," Hermione continued, realizing she now had the attention of everyone in the room. "He was a three-headed monster, easily the size of this room, and he was by no means friendly."

"Understatement of the century, Hermione," Neville muttered.

"Hang on," interrupted Blaise. "How do you two know about this thing anyway?"

"Harry, Ron, Neville, and I were running from Filch one night and ended up in here. For all Dumbledore's warnings, it was pretty easy to get in – a simple _Alohomora_ did the trick – but we'd gotten so turned around we didn't realize just where we were until the dog almost had us for a midnight snack."

"Sounds exactly like some perfectly harmless thing Hagrid would own," Draco drawled sarcastically. To his surprise, Hermione snorted.

"He did belong to Hagrid, actually," she laughed. "And, in true Hagrid fashion, his name was Fluffy." They all laughed at that.

"What about the music part, then?" Lisa asked.

"And where's the damn thing now?" Neville wondered aloud.

"Oh, the music part's nothing exciting," Hermione said. "If you wanted to get by him, you just had to play him some music, and he'd fall asleep. I don't know where he ended up. Not here, obviously – the Forest, maybe?"

"Checkmate!" Justin said suddenly, a grin on his face. Blaise studied the board in disbelief.

"Dammit, you're right!" he said, causing everyone to burst out laughing once more. "You won't be so lucky next time, though."

"Rematch after dinner?" Justin asked, raising his eyebrows in challenge.

"You're on!" The two boys shook hands and set the chessboard aside for later.

"Speaking of dinner," Neville said, "it's about time we all headed downstairs. Shall we?" The others agreed and hastened to ready themselves for the feast, and they all left the common room together, wondering what sort of surprises awaited them in the Great Hall.


	7. All of Us

**A/N: emowifey1 - thanks for following! Modges - I haven't yet decided if Fluffy will make an appearance, but I haven't ruled it out!**

**Here's chapter 7 - my plot, JKR owns the rest. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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Draco made his way down to the feast with the other eighth years, still trying to process everything that had happened that afternoon. He'd expected cold looks and muttered curses, not silent acceptance, and although it was a much more positive start than he could've hoped for, he knew better than to rest on his laurels. He and his six classmates had the common thread of the war joining them together in a sort of understanding – he doubted the rest of the school would be so lenient.

He had to admit the common room was beautiful, and the sunshine pouring through the dormitory windows was a nice change from the underwater view in the Slytherins' abode. He could easily picture himself spending hours reading in front of the fire, and the fact that McGonagall had bothered to have their familiar beds transferred to their new quarters was a surprising but much appreciated touch – she really did seem to be living up to her 'everyone is welcome back' mantra. Finch-Fletchley and Longbottom had been nothing but civil thus far, and Granger had included him in her story about Hagrid's ridiculous dog.

As he walked with his year mates to the feast, Draco couldn't help but notice subtle differences that betrayed just how badly Hogwarts had suffered. Little scars littered the walls and spell grooves marred the stones beneath their feet, and many empty paintings still bore scorch marks or tears, their usual occupants having gone to stay with undamaged neighbors. In one instance, the group had to find an alternate staircase to the second floor, as the shortcut they'd initially chosen was completely caved in. The entrance hall, he noticed, was almost fully restored, and the hourglasses that recorded house points stood whole in their display case once more – although, if McGonagall was to be believed, they weren't going to be in use for quite a while.

Unlike the entrance hall, the Great Hall was very different. The high table sat in its usual place, but instead of the four house tables, dozens of smaller round tables, each set for ten, were scattered around the room. By the time they reached the entrance hall, the carriages had arrived from Hogsmeade, and the rest of the students were chattering loudly as they filed into the Hall and found seats. Uncertain about the new seating arrangements, the eighth years chose a table near the back of the Hall, where they were soon joined by Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood.

"Be glad you weren't on the train," Ginny muttered to Hermione as she sank into her chair. "I lost track of how many looks I got, it was bloody annoying." She glanced up and took in the sight of her tablemates. "Evening, you lot. Welcome back." Draco was a little taken aback by her lack of surprise at his presence, but he didn't say anything. He knew exactly what the redhead meant about looks, as he was certainly getting his fair share of them as students filing into the Hall recognized him. To his immense relief, it wasn't long before McGonagall stood to address the assembled students.

"Good evening, everyone. To our new students, welcome" – here she gestured towards the tables at the front of the room, which were filled with several dozen scared-looking children – "and to our returning students, welcome back. I have several announcements to pass on to you, but I shall leave them until after the feast. In the meantime, enjoy." As soon as she finished speaking, the dishes on the tables filled with food, and the hungry students dug in eagerly.

Once everyone had eaten, the plates cleared themselves and Professor McGonagall tapped a spoon against her goblet to get the students' attention.

"I hope you'll forgive me for taking up a little bit more of your time, but I have several important announcements before you all head off for the night. Firstly, as always, the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students, and Mr. Filch would like me to remind you all of the continuing blanket ban on Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products, as well as an additional 512 items, the complete list of which hangs on his office door." She paused to send a knowing look towards the eighth years' table, where Hermione and Ginny were trying their best not to laugh.

"Second, as I'm sure you're all aware thanks to our summer correspondence, you should expect several changes at Hogwarts this year, some more temporary than others. As you may have noticed, there was no Sorting ceremony this evening - I am sorry to say that our dear Sorting Hat is still recovering from injuries sustained in the Battle of Hogwarts and will be out of commission for some time. For now, Hogwarts will operate on a House-less system - upper years, you will sleep in your House dormitories for the sake of convenience, but you won't necessarily have classes with the same students as usual, and the House point system will not exist." A murmur ran through the crowd at this statement.

"That is not to say," Professor McGonagall continued over the chatter, which died almost instantly, "that troublemakers will not be punished. Points will be recorded by year, and detentions will most certainly still be given if the situation warrants it.

"In order to make this transition a little easier, the rest of the faculty and I have created a House-less common room for each class year - with the exception, of course, of the first and eighth years, as those students are already all bunking together. In addition to your House common rooms, you are free to spend as much time as you like in your year's room, and we highly encourage you to do so. The location and password for your common room can be found on your timetables, which you will receive tomorrow at breakfast. Any questions?"

"If the houses are gone, does that mean there's no Quidditch this year?" someone called from a table on the right.

"Not necessarily," Professor McGonagall said. "The pitch sustained very little damage and is therefore fully operational, and I understand many of you are eager to play again. Madam Hooch and I are in the process of working out an alternate option - we hope to have the details ironed out by Friday so that we may let you all know that evening." The student nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer.

"What about the Heads of Houses?" someone else asked. "Who do we go to if we need somebody like that?"

"Another good question. Professors Sprout, Flitwick, and Slughorn are still considered Heads, and Professor Sinistra has replaced me as the fourth. However, please feel free to talk to any staff member should the need arise - our Head students, Mr. Summerby and Miss Roberts, as well as myself, are always available as well.

"Finally, I know you're probably tired of hearing this, but I must stress the importance of unity this year. Hogwarts suffered terribly last year, and although many of you will find it difficult to let go of House rivalries and prejudices, I want to make it perfectly clear that negative actions towards _any_ student or staff member will not be tolerated. I ask you to think of yourselves, not as Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, or Slytherins, but as what you really are - students of Hogwarts. Hogwarts is strong, but the road to recovery is a long one, and she'll need your help to succeed." Silence filled the Hall as the students considered her words.

"Enough for now," the Headmistress said. "Off to bed with you; you have your lessons in the morning." Chair scraped against stone as the students headed out for the night. Hermione, Ginny, and Susan immediately struck up a conversation about McGonagall's speech, which continued until they had to part ways on the third floor.

"See you all in the morning!" Ginny called as she headed for the nearest shortcut upstairs.

"So...Quidditch, huh?" It took Draco a minute to realize the question was directed at him.

"What about it?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"You going to play?" Blaise asked.

"Please, Blaise - like I'd be allowed to play again," he scoffed.

"Why not?" Blaise countered. "It's like McGonagall said - we're not Slytherins anymore; we're Hogwarts students, all of us. That includes you."

"I still don't think-"

"Draco, shut up," Blaise snapped. "Moping around isn't going to do you any good, and I highly doubt you came back here just to do that. It's no secret that you love Quidditch, so if eighth years are allowed to play, you should go for it. You've been given your second chance - don't screw it up." With that, he sped up to chat with Justin and Neville, leaving Draco alone with his thoughts.

Before the war, Draco would have brushed aside Blaise's comments, even gotten angry at him for daring to be so forward, but now, he carefully considered what his friend had said. He'd gotten extremely lucky that Blaise had decided to come back too, as he was probably the only person Draco felt comfortable opening up to on any level - yes, Blaise could be as crafty as any other Slytherin, but he was also incredibly observant and a very good listener. He never said anything unless he meant it, so his comment about second chances struck Draco to the core. Blaise was right, of course - Draco was lucky to have a second chance at all, and not taking advantage of that was probably the worst thing he could do for himself. Did he want to play Quidditch again? Hell yes, he did. Would he be disappointed if he couldn't? Absolutely. But he'd never know if he didn't try. Deciding to wait and see what McGonagall's alternative was, he climbed into bed and shut the curtains, one of Blaise's other comments echoing in his head as he fell asleep:

_"We're not Slytherins anymore; we're Hogwarts students, all of us."_


	8. The First Week

**A/N: Two chapters in a day - if I'm feeling ambitious, I might even get a third up after dinner. Also, can I say that Ginny is ****_so_**** much fun to write? Like always, the only thing I own is the plot. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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Hermione woke up the next morning in a very good mood. After all the waiting, she was finally back! Eager to start the day, she showered quickly and donned her uniform, the slight alterations not going unnoticed - the Hogwarts crest had replaced that of Gryffindor on her robes, her sweater vest was trimmed in white instead of red, and her tie was a deep shade of purple. She slipped on her shoes and headed into the common room, which was deserted - most of the others were still asleep, although she could hear water running in the boys' bathroom.

She found their timetables pinned neatly to the notice board near the common room's entrance - Tuesday seemed a bit full, but otherwise her schedule looked reasonable enough. After grabbing her things for Arithmancy and Herbology, Hermione headed down to the Great Hall, where she propped her book against a ketchup bottle and helped herself to some toast.

"Hitting the books already, hmm?" a familiar voice asked.

"Ginny!" Hermione laughed. "Good morning!"

"Same to you," Ginny replied as she reached for the bacon. "How's your schedule looking?"

"Not bad, really. Double History of Magic will be torture as always, but otherwise, I think I'll be alright."

"I hate that we're required to continue with that class now," Ginny muttered. "I know they're not making us take the exam if we don't want to, but still. Binns is awful."

"Probably because of the war," said Hermione. "There's a well-known Muggle saying, 'Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it' - not that we'll be forgetting recent events anytime soon, but I think the general idea is that being familiar with history is more important than we tend to think."

"Alright, so that does make sense," Ginny agreed. "Doesn't change the fact that Binns is about as interesting as a flobberworm." The two girls giggled and discussed Defense Against the Dark Arts, the first block of which would be Friday afternoon, for the rest of breakfast before Hermione headed off to Arithmancy.

The first few days passed in a blur as the eighth years struggled to settle into a routine they hadn't had to follow in over a year. Each professor spent the first ten minutes or so of class on review, then dove right into new material - the eighth years found themselves reading late into the night as they hurriedly tried to refresh memories of their sixth year's work while tackling large amounts of homework. The seven students tended to spend most evenings in their common room, heading to the library only when necessary - while it wasn't far, the walk to the library still wasted valuable time, and several of them had already been accosted by groups of curious students from the younger years. Draco and Hermione in particular had found themselves cornered on several occasions, both separately and together, and they'd decided that avoiding the rest of the school was probably best for the time being.

Too soon for Hermione's liking, they were sitting down to Friday lunch. She, Ginny, Neville, and Luna had gone over their plan for the afternoon's Defense lesson, but she was still a little nervous. Aside from History of Magic, Defense Against the Dark Arts was the only class every N.E.W.T. student was required to take due to its extreme importance, and she could only hope they'd be able to do it justice. Unfortunately, their Auror assistants wouldn't be coming until next week at the earliest, so they were on their own for the first go-around.

At one o'clock, the seventh and eighth years made their way to a spacious classroom on the second floor. Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna had left lunch early to set up the large cushions covering most of the floor. Their classmates entered in small groups and sat in a large circle, and once Ginny had double-counted to ensure everyone was there, Hermione cleared her throat to get their attention.

"Um...hi everyone," she said. "Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"No need to be so nervous, Hermione," Justin chided. "It's just us." Hermione laughed.

"True - teaching you all is a bit weird though," she admitted. "Anyway, I'm sure most of you were either in or have heard of Dumbledore's Army, the defense organization Harry and I started back in our fifth year - Ginny, Neville, Luna and I are the remaining senior members of that group, and we're - hopefully - going to teach you a useful thing or two. Some things we do will be easier than others-"

"Oh, please," someone interrupted. "Don't tell me you're giving us that _Expelliarmus_ crap again." Hermione knew instantly who had spoken, but Ginny beat her to a response.

"Yes, _Zacharias_," she hissed, her voice dripping with contempt, "we are indeed giving you 'that _Expelliarmus _crap'." She paused and raked her gaze around the circle, making eye contact with everyone in the room. "Listen up, you lot. Advanced spells are all well and good, but they're useless if you can't execute them properly. In the heat of battle, it's even harder to think straight, and you tend to only have time to use the first spells you think of. The more simple spells you have at your disposal, the better off you'll be." Quick as lightning, she turned her wand on Zacharias. _"Expelliarmus!"_ His wand shot out of his hand straight into hers.

"Anyone who wants to deny that you're at an advantage if your opponent loses his wand is a fool," she said bluntly, "as is anyone who thinks discounting particular spells is a good idea. I fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, and I saw everything from Patronus charms to Transfigured suits of armor charging down the stairs. When your opponent is quick, you have to be quicker; if he's clever, you have to be more so. Don't limit yourself - and _always_ keep a firm grip on your wand," she finished, tossing Zacharias' back across the circle.

"Need I also remind you," Hermione added, "that a Disarming charm finished off Voldemort for good. Those of you who were there know what happened - for those of you who don't, Harry's Disarming charm collided with Voldemort's Killing Curse, which then rebounded and hit him."

"But then it was the Killing Curse that did him in," Zacharias countered snidely.

"Smith, you dolt, were you not listening just then?" Ginny asked sharply. "Yes, the Killing Curse killed Voldemort - but _that's not what Harry cast._ He used a Disarming charm, nothing more." Her eyes glittered dangerously as she stared him down. "And I believe, unless I'm _very_ much mistaken, that you were one of the first to evacuate the castle _before_ the battle even started - in which case, I'd ask you very kindly to keep your mouth shut unless you know what you're talking about." Zacharias' face was bright red and he looked livid, but he didn't say anything further.

"The point is," said Neville, "that you never know what might be helpful. The Dark Arts know no bounds, so you can't constrict yourself when fighting them. You can't study advanced topics in Charms or Transfiguration without covering the basics first, and we're not going to give you any advanced stuff in here until we know what you're capable of. Pair up, and we want to see your Disarming spells."

There was a lot of shuffling as the students hastened to do as he asked. For the next several minutes, cries of _"Expelliarmus!" _filled the room. The four leaders meandered through the room and watched, taking careful note of who performed the spell easily and who had some trouble. After they were certain they'd seen enough, they called everyone to attention with a blast like a gunshot from Hermione's wand.

"Right then," she said, "well done. Most of you did pretty well, but some of you could use some work. Between now and next Friday, take ten minutes to practice with someone – with the separate class year common rooms, that shouldn't be too difficult. Practice with a few different people so you get to know different styles - not everyone duels the same way, so it'd be foolish of us to always let you pair off with the same person. No blocking spells until we say so - like Neville said, we need to make sure you all know the basics like the back of your hand.

"The other spell we want to see today is _Stupefy,_ the Stunning spell. It's another basic charm that's incredibly useful, as it puts your opponent out of commission until they can be revived. Pick a different partner, and get to it."

Again, the students complied; again, Hermione closely observed her classmates. The Stunning spell exercise had mixed results - those who'd fought in the battle were much better at it than those who hadn't, and far less people had a fully effective charm.

"Enough!" she finally called after a while. "I think that's good for today. Like I said, take a little time to practice between now and next week. It doesn't have to be long - a split second's all you need to make a difference - but it'll be obvious if you haven't done so." She picked up her bag and several others copied her. "Have a good weekend, everyone!"

Once she got back to the common room, Hermione flopped unceremoniously onto the sofa.

"Merlin, that was stressful!" she said. Ginny, whom they'd all agreed was welcome to visit their quarters, laughed and sprawled on the rug at her feet.

"A bit," she agreed, "but getting to knock Smith down a peg or two was so much fun."

"THANK you," Susan said, having just entered the room. "Nobody can stand that prat, he's so bloody annoying!" She dropped her bag on the floor with a loud _thunk_ and turned to the message board.

"Hey, look at this!" she cried suddenly. "It's the Quidditch notice!"

"Quidditch?" Ginny exclaimed. Eager to read the missive, she launched herself across the room and tore it from the board, Hermione and Neville laughing at her obvious delight.

"Well go on, read it aloud then!" Blaise prodded. He, Draco, Justin, and Lisa joined the others around the fire, and Ginny turned to face the group, her eyes rapidly scanning the message. She cleared her throat and read aloud:

_We are pleased to announce that Quidditch is returning to Hogwarts! Please take note of the following changes:_

_1\. In lieu of House teams, four new teams will be created for this year's tournament. All students from second year through eighth are eligible to play._

_2\. Current Quidditch Captains (or those who would have been chosen for the position this term, if the most recent Captain has already left school) will have first choice at retaining their Captaincy – in the event that any current Captains decline, all interested parties may submit their names to Madam Hooch, who will then draw names to fill the open slot(s)._

_3\. An open tryout session will take place next Saturday afternoon - all students wishing to play MUST attend, no exceptions._

_4\. Captains will select their starting teams, as well as reserves for each position, from the pool of players by Sunday evening. Players will have one week to accept or decline offers, and the pitch will be open for practice starting the weekend after tryouts. Please note that students may only compete for one team regardless of selection status._

_Good luck!_

"So it's like a draft – that actually sounds kind of cool," Lisa said. "Any idea who the current Captains are?"

"Well, Malfoy's one of them, obviously," Ginny replied. When he shot her a surprised look, she tossed him a second piece of parchment that had been tacked below the Quidditch notice. "Did you forget you were Captain the last time any of us played?" she asked.

"I hadn't really thought about it, to be honest," he admitted as he read the note.

"So?" Lisa asked again, "does it say who the other Captains are?"

"Smith, unfortunately. Someone called Steve Livingston – I assume he's from Ravenclaw, since the fourth is Little Red here."

"'Little Red'?" Ginny asked with a smirk.

"Yes, 'Little Red'," Draco replied. "We're certainly not on a first-name basis, and 'Weasel' just gets confusing, there are too many of you."

"Fair enough," Ginny conceded. "I kinda like it."

"I like how you're more focused on Draco's interesting nickname than the fact that you're a Quidditch Captain," Blaise said, his tone almost teasing.

"Oh, well…that's pretty cool too, obviously. I guess Gryffindor would need a new Captain, since Harry didn't come back, and I sort of was Captain already for a bit when he was banned. Anyways, I'm definitely going to accept – think you will, Malfoy?" Draco snorted.

"No," he said curtly. "Let's be honest here – how many people, knowing what they know – or, I guess more accurately, _don't_ know – would want to play under me? I'd rather not put myself through that, thanks."

"You _will_ play though?" Ginny asked sharply. When he merely raised his eyebrows at her, she said, "Don't be an idiot, Malfoy. You're a damn good Seeker – unless the next Harry Potter has arrived and we just don't know it, you're the best we've got, and I for one would be a fool not to take you if you tried out. I intend to win that Quidditch Cup, and that means I need the best of the best." She gathered her things and prepared to head out. "I'd better see you on that pitch next weekend – I'll send Hermione to forcibly drag you out there if I don't," she warned. After bidding them all goodnight, Ginny left.

"Merlin, Drake, I don't think she's kidding," Blaise laughed once Ginny had gone.

"No, she's definitely not," Draco agreed. "And if there's one thing I've learned, it's that crossing her is _never _a good idea."

"So you'll try out then?" Blaise asked. Draco shrugged.

"I'll consider it." Blaise chuckled and went back to his book. For now, that would have to do.


	9. Open Hostility

**A/N: Thanks to Dramione7 and carrie76 for the follows/favorites! Glad this little story's getting some love. Modges - you have to admit it'd be a funny sight...but I don't think Draco's stupid enough to test both Hermione &amp; Ginny like that.**

**Three chapters in one day - phew. Time for bed. Plot is mine, the rest is Rowling's. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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For the next week, all anyone could talk about was Quidditch. By Monday morning, rumors were flying about who was trying out, who had the best chances of making a team, and who the Captains were (it seemed that the only people privy to this information were the Captains themselves, who met with Madam Hooch on Tuesday to finalize the format of the tryouts). While rather bored of all the talk of Bludgers and broomsticks, Hermione was happy to see so many people in such a good mood. Even Draco seemed to be enjoying himself a little more – he'd followed through on his declaration from Friday night and relinquished his Captaincy, but he'd jumped right into a hearty discussion about tactics with Justin, Lisa, and Blaise the following afternoon and had spent nearly an hour afterwards polishing his broomstick. It seemed he was taking Ginny's threat seriously and was going to try out after all – or, if he wasn't, he had quite a funny way of showing it.

How anyone managed to make it through the week was a mystery, but Saturday finally arrived. The Great Hall was much noisier than usual at breakfast – the pitch itself was off limits until the tryouts started, but many people intended to have a good fly around the grounds before then. Ginny and Hermione spent the meal going over logistics for the afternoon – as Kevin was participating in the tryouts and Laura was at St. Mungo's visiting her newborn nephew, Hermione had agreed to fulfill her supervisory duty for Professor McGonagall. Madam Hooch would be in her office in case anything got out of hand, but Hermione hoped they could get through the afternoon with relatively little disturbance.

Just before two, the girls made their way down to the Quidditch pitch.

"Couldn't have asked for better weather!" Ginny said brightly. The sky was a beautiful shade of blue, and a warm breeze played across their faces as they walked. When they reached the stadium, Hermione stopped and waved her wand in a series of complicated circles, a thin stream of soft blue light flowing from the tip as she did so.

"What was that?" Ginny asked when she'd finished.

"I warded the stadium so that only those who are serious about trying out can get in," Hermione answered. "Remember the first year Harry was Captain, when he had to send off all those people who were from other houses or came without broomsticks? I figured this way, you won't have to worry about that – the whole school would probably turn up otherwise."

"Brightest witch of your age, as always," Ginny grinned cheekily. Hermione answered with a light smack to the redhead's arm, and the two girls made their way to the announcer's booth, where a small table and five chairs awaited them. By two o'clock, the other three chairs were occupied and a substantial group of hopefuls had gathered on the pitch below. Hermione cast a _Sonorus _charm over their entire box and addressed the crowd.

"Afternoon, everyone. For those of you who might not know me, I'm Hermione Granger, and I'm standing in for the Head Boy and Girl, one of whom is participating in today's tryouts and the other of whom has a prior commitment. I'll be the first to admit I don't know a thing about Quidditch" – here a number of people laughed – "so let's turn it over to the Captains and get started." The Captains quickly introduced themselves:

"Ginny Weasley, Chaser."

"Zacharias Smith, Chaser."

"Steve Livingston, Keeper."

"Paul Rogers, Seeker." Paul, a former Ravenclaw a year younger than Ginny, had been chosen as the fourth Captain after Draco had declined.

"Alright, here's how it's going to work," Ginny explained. "We'll start with the Chasers – run a few drills, have you fly some formations. We'll probably ask you to pair up with a bunch of different people so we can get an idea of how you fly together in addition to your individual skills. We'll add the Keepers after that. Beaters will go next, and the Seeker drills will be last. Once your group is done, you're welcome to stay or go as you please. Any questions? No? Good. Chasers, stay on the field; everyone else, take a seat."

The Chaser tryouts took the better part of an hour as the four Captains put numerous combinations of people through a long list of drills. Ginny hopped on her broom and joined them for a bit to gauge who flew well with her, and she participated vigorously in the Keeper tryouts, scoring several spectacular goals, much to the chagrin of several of the candidates. The Beater trials went much quicker than the Chasers' but still took nearly twenty minutes. Finally, it was the Seekers' turn.

"Right then, Seekers," Paul said, "here's the deal. We'll release one Snitch, which is charmed to glow blue when somebody catches it. Basically a simple time trial – once you catch it, we record your time, re-release the Snitch, and continue until everybody's done. Mount your brooms!" The fifteen Seekers in attendance did so, awaiting the whistle that would signify the starting of the clock.

"What the hell is _he_ doing here?" Zacharias demanded before Paul could blow the whistle. It didn't take much for anyone to figure out that his comment was directed at Malfoy.

"What do you think he's doing?" Ginny asked. "He's obviously here for the Quidditch; Hermione's wards would've kept him out otherwise."

"Like I'd want a-" Zacharias started to say, but he was cut off when he found Hermione's wand inches from his face.

"A what?" she asked. Thanks to the magnification charm, everyone in the stadium heard her deadly whisper. "Finish that sentence like I think you were going to, Zacharias, and you can be sure you'll pay for it." For once, he was smart enough to back down. After a moment of awkward silence, Paul released the Snitch, and once he'd given it a minute's head start, he blew the whistle. Fifteen brooms rocketed upwards, their owners immersed in the mad hunt for the elusive golden ball.

Draco circled slowly high above the grass, scanning the stadium for any sign of the Snitch. Strangely enough, only one other person seemed to have a similar tactic – the rest were racing around the pitch in all directions. Ironically, their scatterbrained approach actually played to Draco's advantage, as it simulated the chaos of a real game rather well. After several minutes of searching, he saw a flash of gold and shot off towards the far goal posts – seconds later, he felt the familiar beating of wings against his palm as his hand closed around the Snitch.

"Seven-seventeen – not bad, Malfoy," Paul called. "You're done, let the Snitch go and have a seat."

As reluctant as he was to land, Draco did so and found a seat in the stands. He didn't really pay any attention to the rest of the Seekers – now that the euphoria of flying was starting to wear off, he was more focused on Smith and Granger's earlier interaction. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Smith's intended comment had been, 'Like I'd want a Death Eater on my team' – Smith had shown quite clearly where he stood with regards to such things multiple times already. It wasn't so much Smith himself – the conceited boy was more obnoxious than half the school put together, which Draco acknowledged was quite a feat considering his own arrogant tendencies – but rather his very public declaration that cut Draco the most. He'd heard dozens of whispered comments, most of them far from complimentary, in the corridors between classes since term had begun, but they'd been just that – whispers. Those, he could write off. This was different – it was bad enough he had to live with the guilt every day; he didn't need anyone blatantly throwing it back in his face.

The other thing nagging him was Granger's response – why in Merlin's name had she been so quick to defend him? They'd refrained from hexing each other or name calling thus far, but just because they'd matured beyond childish petulance didn't suddenly make them the best of friends. Deciding that the only way to know for sure was to ask her about it, Draco sighed and headed back towards the castle – Granger wouldn't be around until tryouts were over, and he had a veritable mountain of homework waiting for him back in the common room.


	10. Scars and Labels

**A/N: Thank you to my new follows/favorites: Annabrea-Shaw, Musicluver225, &amp; Sentariana! Modges - don't worry, Zacharias will get what he deserves eventually: I never liked him in the books, &amp; it felt like he got off too easy then. It might not happen right away, but it will, I promise!**

**Here's chapter 10 - this one was hard to write, since I really do want to keep them in character as much as possible. JKR owns all, as always. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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Draco had been doing homework for nearly two hours when Hermione stormed in, looking murderous.

"I'm going to _kill _him!" she said to no one in particular. She made for the girls' dormitories, wrenched the door open, and reemerged not a minute later, a quill and a roll of parchment clutched in her fist. She dropped into the seat across from Draco and began scribbling furiously, and although she didn't say another word out loud, he could hear her muttering things like "that insufferable prat" and "get what he deserves" under her breath.

"Um…Granger?"

"What?" she snapped, quill still skating across the parchment. Draco was impressed that she could continue writing even while throwing a glare in his direction.

"I was just going to ask if you'd eaten, no need to get your wand in a knot," he replied, trying to mask that this was not, in fact, what he'd originally intended to say.

"What? No, of course I haven't," she said impatiently. "I've been rather busy, in case you've forgotten."

"No, I haven't." He stared at her for a second, noting how frazzled she looked, and realized that the stubborn girl had no intention of eating when she was on the warpath about…whatever it was. So, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Within seconds, he'd called for a house-elf and ordered dinner for the both of them.

"Malfoy, what-"

"Granger, just shut up and eat," he commanded. "It's just leftovers from the Great Hall; it's not like I asked for anything special. I know how you are with your creature rights crusades. But that's neither here nor there – you need to eat, so eat."

"I…well, thanks," she said, a bit awkwardly. The conversation dead-ended for the time being as they tucked into their stew in silence.

"Yes, I did need that," Hermione admitted once she'd finished. "I…well, that was…rather thoughtful of you." Draco didn't know how to respond to that, so he changed the subject instead.

"Who are you writing to?"

"Harry."

"Potter?"

"Yes, Harry Potter. You know any others?" she asked.

"No, I don't. What does writing to Potter have to do with your earlier tirade?"

"I need to talk to him about Snape," she said.

"Snape?"

"Yes, Snape," she snapped. "Now, are you just going to keep repeating everything I say like a bloody parrot, or is there a point to this conversation?"

"Yes, Granger, there is a point to this conversation," he retorted. "I want to know what the hell happened on the Quidditch pitch this afternoon, and what it has to do with Snape." It wasn't the way he'd intended to ask, but her vague responses were getting irritating.

"Smith just as good as called you a Death Eater," Hermione said bluntly.

"And?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows and doing his best to look nonchalant.

"Oh, don't even try to pull that act on me, Draco Malfoy," Hermione hissed angrily. "I saw your face when he said it. We both know it's not true, and I intend to make him pay for what he said."

"What do you mean, it's not true?" Draco asked sharply. "Of course it is – or have you forgotten this?" He unbuttoned his left cuff and roughly shoved up the sleeve, revealing the ugly black mark on his pale skin. It had faded somewhat since Voldemort's death, but it would never go away completely.

"Was," Hermione corrected.

"What?"

"Was," she repeated. "It _was_ true, at one time – but it's not anymore."

"And how are you so sure of that?"

"Because you saved my life," she said quietly.

"Granger, I stood back and watched while my aunt tortured you. How does doing _nothing_ constitute saving your life?" Hermione sighed.

"Listen – I know I said all this already at your trial, but I feel like I need to tell you face-to-face. Doing nothing is the best – the _only _thing you could've done in that situation; if you'd tried anything else, your dear aunt would've killed you in a heartbeat, and probably the rest of us as well. You'd already chosen not to give us away when you knew perfectly well who we were, and the fact that you're regretting not having done anything else proves you have a conscience – which, last I checked, wasn't exactly Voldemort's top choice when choosing his followers. If you truly were a Death Eater, Dumbledore would've died at your hand, and you wouldn't have thought twice about a Mudblood being put in her place."

"Don't," he practically snarled at her. "_Don't_ call yourself that."

"And why not?" she glared. "I know what I am; I know what some people think of me." She tugged the collar of her shirt down a little to expose the thin scar Bellatrix's knife had left running across her neck. "I know what some people think of me," she repeated, "and I'm not going to deny it – it may be a disgusting word, but I'm proud of where I come from. But it's just a label, and this is just a scar – I don't let either define me. The question is, can you say the same?" She met his eyes, her gaze piercing.

"But it's different," he protested. "For as many people who'd throw you to the dogs, you've got ten times as many worshipping the very ground you walk upon – to them, you're Gryffindor's princess, the Wizarding world's queen."

"And they're just as ridiculous," Hermione scoffed. "'The Wizarding world's queen' – honestly. The people who call me things like that don't know me any more than those who call me 'Mudblood' do – they give me titles based on who they _think_ I am. To Harry, the Weasleys, my family, my friends – the people who know me best – I'm just Hermione."

"Because you're all those things just by being you," Draco countered. "The majority of the Wizarding world adores you, Granger, and for good reason – you're the essence of what it means to be good. They call you those things because they love you."

"Tell me – what was I to you, last Easter?" Hermione asked.

"My eternal tormentor," he said quietly. "I'd watched so many people tortured, so many people _die_ on that very same floor – but none of them affected me half as badly as you did. Because you weren't just another victim – you were Granger…someone I knew," he finished lamely.

"But you've proven my point, then," Hermione said with a small smile. "Even to you, someone I've never gotten along with, I was just 'Granger', nothing more."

"Are you suggesting I'm one of the people who 'know you best'?" Draco asked with a slight smirk.

"No…but you certainly know me better than the hundreds of nameless faces I've seen almost faint at just the thought of being in the same room as me," Hermione said. "And that's what I'm trying to say, really – our history isn't the greatest, but I've still spent a large chunk of my Hogwarts career in your company. To say we're close would be a lie, but I know you well enough that I noticed the slight changes in your behavior as you got older. You're not the person you were before the war, but not too many people know that – I think it's time they knew the truth."

"Granger," Draco said, "in case you missed the memo, I was a Slytherin – we don't exactly sit around having tell-all pajama parties, it's not our style."

"I'm not asking you to," Hermione said. "I'm asking your permission to tell _Snape's_ story."

"What does Snape's story have to do with anything? And why do you need my permission to tell it?" Draco looked utterly bemused.

"To answer your first question, everything – Snape's story has everything to do with it, because it proves that people can change for good. As to the second, I ask you because I know you two were close, in a way – I already asked his portrait, of course, but I felt like asking you was the right thing to do."

"He doesn't have a portrait," Draco replied.

"Yes, he does, actually. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't, since he abandoned the post, but Harry insisted once he knew what Snape had done."

"Which I don't really recall, to be honest. I know Potter spouted it off at the end of the battle, but I was a bit preoccupied by my mother's fussing over me to catch all the details – something about his mum?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed quietly, "but I'll let you hear it later – I think Harry should be the one to tell it, since he's the only one who's actually seen Snape's memories. We'll probably have to wait till the Halloween feast, since that's the first chance everyone will be together-"

"Whoa, wait a minute," Draco interrupted. "You want to tell the whole school?"

"Yes, Draco, that's the point," she sniffed. "They need to know that it's not acceptable to treat you like garbage." He was silent for a long minute, then:

"You called me Draco." He sounded nonplussed.

"Well, that is your name, isn't it?" Hermione asked, amused.

"Well, yes…but I don't think I've ever heard you use it before," he said slowly. He paused again. "Granger…why are you doing this?"

"Labels," she said simply. "Everyone knows there's a person under mine; they need to know there's someone under yours, too." She hastily added a postscript to her letter, sealed it, and stood. "I know there is, and if it's alright with you, I'd like to get to know him better – a fresh start, if you will," she said, repeating the words she'd said to Blaise the night they'd arrived. Just as she'd done with the Italian, she held out her hand to Draco. For a minute, he seemed uncertain.

"No ulterior motives," she smiled, successfully reading his silence. "Promise." Seeming to accept this, he shook the offered hand.

"Alright then, Granger. A fresh start. I still don't quite understand why you're doing this, but…I appreciate it." She nodded and rose to leave, turning back to him only when she'd reached the door.

"You're welcome – and Draco? My name's Hermione." Without another word, she left the common room, leaving Draco alone with his thoughts.


	11. Phoenix Rising

**A/N: Another multi-chapter day, woohoo! JKR owns the Potterverse; I'm just playing. Let me know what you think, &amp; I hope you enjoy! :)**

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The next morning, Draco received a note over breakfast:

_Malfoy,_

_Team meeting Tuesday night at 8, in the Charms classroom. Told you I'd be a fool not to pick you._

_Little Red_

_P.S. I really need a new name for you – can't let you have all the fun. I'll work on it._

He chuckled at the fact that her postscript was just as long as the note itself, but the overwhelming majority of his brain could only focus on one thing – he was going to play Quidditch again! He couldn't resist showing Blaise the note, nor could he resist the grin that formed on his face as Blaise offered his congratulations. Over the next two days, he found himself constantly watching the clock in his classes, a fact that earned him a stern reprimanding from Professor McGonagall in Transfiguration, as he anxiously willed Tuesday evening closer. Finally, the appointed hour arrived, and Draco made his way to the Charms classroom. Ginny Weasley was already there, of course, plus Lisa Turpin and two students he didn't recognize but suspected were related, as they looked a lot alike.

"Hey, Malfoy!" Ginny greeted him brightly. "Still working on the new name, sorry. Have a seat; the others should be here in a minute or two." As if on cue, the door opened once more and the final students walked in – one, a tall, broad-shouldered boy with dark hair; the other, a tiny girl with large eyes and straight golden hair that just brushed her shoulders.

"Alright, then," Ginny said once they'd all settled in, "welcome to our first meeting – that is, unless any of you are considering other teams. Did anyone get any other offers?" she asked.

"I did," Lisa spoke up, "but this is my choice, hands down." Ginny looked pleased.

"Excellent. Anyone else?"

"I did," said one of the boys, "from that Smith bloke. I went to his team meeting last night but I didn't like him much – of course he didn't exactly give off the best impression that first day in Defense either – so I thought I'd come tonight and compare the two. So far, this one's winning hands down."

"Hang on, how do you not know Smith?" Ginny asked. "Aren't you in my year?"

"I was home-schooled until this year," the boy replied.

"Ah, that explains it. Anyway, you're all here, which is great, and since we're going to be seeing rather a lot of one another this year, I figured it'd be best if we introduced ourselves. I'll go first – I'm Ginny Weasley, if for some reason you didn't already know. I'm your Captain, a seventh year and previously a Gryffindor, and I play Chaser, although I've also played Seeker in the past. I've played Quidditch at Hogwarts since my fourth year and played at home long before that."

"I'll go next," Lisa offered. "Lisa Turpin, eighth year former Ravenclaw, and I'm a Chaser. I've played Quidditch in summer rec leagues since I was little, but I've never played here before."

"Why not?" Ginny questioned. "You flew brilliantly in the trials." Lisa shrugged.

"Thanks, but Davies didn't like my style. Which was fine by me, he was incredibly full of himself anyway."

"Ian Albertson, also a Chaser," the home-schooled boy said. He was of middling height with close-cropped sandy hair and bright blue eyes. "As Ginny already said, I'm in seventh year, House-less, for the time being, obviously never played here before, but I played in a league back home."

"Samantha Albertson, I'm Ian's twin." Her thick, honey-blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she had the same blue eyes as her brother. "Call me Sam. I've been playing Quidditch with him in the backyard ever since I can remember – I play Keeper. Played on a handful of rec teams as well, nothing too serious."

"Carter Johnson," the tall boy said next. "Fifth year, Beater. Played two years ago on the Ravenclaw team." It was Draco's turn next.

"Most of you probably know who I am already," he said with a sigh, "but in case you don't, I'm Draco Malfoy. Eighth year, played Seeker for Slytherin since second year."

"Second year?" Sam asked, an appraising look on her face. "You must be pretty good then." He merely shrugged.

"Stop being modest, Malfoy," Ginny said with a laugh. "It doesn't suit you. You know you're good – I wouldn't have picked you otherwise. Although you're still not as good as Harry." She couldn't resist throwing that last part in and winked when he glared at her. "Alright, Rose, your turn."

"Rose Zeller," the little blonde girl spoke up. "I'm a fourth year, Hufflepuff, Beater."

"Don't let her size fool you," Ginny warned. "She was an absolute beast at the trials." Draco had to agree – he might not have known her name, but as soon as the diminutive girl had stated her position, he'd remembered her instantly. He'd watched the entirety of the trials before his own, and Rose had been insanely good – she was at least half a head shorter than anyone else, and yet she'd overpowered almost all of them.

"Now that we all know each other," Ginny continued once Rose had settled back into her chair, "I need you all to sign this roster – it's a contract, of sorts, letting Madam Hooch know who's committed to my team. That is, if you've decided to stick around," she added with a glance at Ian.

"Oh don't worry, I'm in," he assured her. Ginny grinned as she passed around the parchment.

"Perfect. Now that that's all settled, we need to pick a name, and a mascot. I think Zacharias, the self-centered person that he is, picked his himself, but I thought we could pick ours together, as a sort of…bonding exercise, if you will. Anybody have any brilliant ideas?"

"Let's pick a mascot first," Sam suggested. "Finding a name to go with a mascot is always easier than a mascot to go with a name."

"A griffin?" Ian said.

"No – sounds too much like Gryffindor," Carter replied. "We're a House-less team, so our choice should reflect that."

"A manticore?"

"Ugh, no."

"A kelpie?"

"We're playing Quidditch, not swimming Loch Ness…"

The suggestions came forth sporadically for the next several minutes, but nothing seemed quite right.

"A phoenix," Lisa said suddenly.

"A phoenix?" Ginny asked. "Why a phoenix?"

"Well," Lisa said, choosing her words carefully, "this is a rebuilding year, yeah? And this team is sort of coming together out of the old to create something new – kind of like a phoenix."

"I think it's perfect," Rose said enthusiastically. Everyone else nodded his or her assent.

"A phoenix it is, then. What about a name?" Sam prompted.

"Hmm…well, what do we know about them?" Carter asked.

"They're magnificent," Ginny said with a sigh. "Their tears can heal almost anything, and their song is both the saddest and most beautiful thing you'll ever hear. They're incredibly loyal, and they burst into flames when they're ready to die, only to be reborn from the ashes."

"How do you know so much about them?" Ian inquired.

"Fawkes," Ginny replied. "Dumbledore's phoenix. He was quite the remarkable bird."

"You knew…_Dumbledore's_ phoenix?" Rose asked in awe.

"Yes, I did," Ginny said softly. "I really wish you could have known him too."

"What about 'Phoenix Risen'?" suggested Sam. "You know, to go along with the whole rebuilding idea."

"I like it," Ginny decided, "but let's do 'Phoenix Rising' instead – 'Risen' implies that we're done, but 'Rising' says we're still going, stronger than what came before." She gave Draco a significant look as she spoke, and he nodded slightly, indicating that he understood.

"I think it's perfect," he agreed quietly. Ginny asked for a vote, and when the name passed unanimously, she scribbled it atop their roster.

"That's all for tonight," she said as she tucked the parchment into her bag. "Plan on practicing sometime next Sunday – I'll let you know the exact time soon." They bid each other goodnight and left. Draco hung back, wanting to say something to Ginny but unsure of how to do so. Finally, he decided to stop beating around the bush.

"Thanks, Little Red," he said. He didn't have to say anything more for her to know what he meant.

"Anytime. Harry told me all about what happened with Dumbledore, and Hermione seems to trust you on some level as well – they can't all be crazy." She shrugged. "Besides, I told you I needed the best of the best, which includes you. I'm not about to let petty grudges from years past get in the way of that." He nodded and made to leave. Just as he reached the door, Ginny spoke once more, so softly he almost didn't hear her.

"I'm glad you're bringing out your inner phoenix, Malfoy."


	12. Unexpected Surprises

**A/N: Thank you to CassieImagine, Colonel92, &amp; Blizzardx for the follows/favorites!**

**This chapter's quite a bit longer than most of the previous ones - couldn't really find a good place to cut it. Please consider letting me know what you think so far, &amp; I hope you enjoy! :)**

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On Tuesday, Hermione got a response from Harry. It was short and rather messier than usual, as if he'd scribbled it hastily in a spare moment, but it was the answer she'd been hoping for - Harry would be able to come to Hogwarts on Saturday to discuss her idea. After setting up a meeting with Professor McGonagall, Hermione sent Harry a reply and told Draco to keep his afternoon free, as she wanted him to sit in on the meeting as well.

The professors added an interesting element to their classes that week, as they began focusing on practical applications of magic - in Charms, Professor Flitwick had them using several advanced spells to help with the school's restorations, and Professor Slughorn set them to brewing stocks of Pepper-Up potion and others remedies to replenish Madam Pomphrey's stash in anticipation of the upcoming flu season. The workload was still formidable, but nobody could deny the usefulness of what they were learning.

On Friday, the Aurors assigned to the seventh- and eighth-years' Defense Against the Dark Arts class made their first appearance. Celia and John were both fresh out of the academy, just a few years older than the students, and they completely transformed everyone's views on the subject in the two hours they worked. For the first fifteen minutes or so, the two Aurors watched as the students demonstrated what they'd been practicing in the previous sessions. Once they'd determined that they'd seen enough, they called them in and told them to take a seat.

"What is 'Defense Against the Dark Arts'?" John asked once everyone was seated. "What does that phrase mean to you?"

"Defensive spells."

"Jinxes and hexes."

"Dark magic."

"These are all great suggestions," John said as he wrote them on the blackboard, "but they all fall under the same category - wand work. Defense Against the Dark Arts is an umbrella term, and wand work is only part of that umbrella."

"That's not to say that wand work's not important," continued Celia. "It's one of the most important things about defending yourself, when you're magical. But as we watched you work just now, it's pretty obvious that most of you are more than competent with a wand, so we're going to leave the magical aspects of this class in your hands for now - we'll pass on some spells we think might be useful for you to know, but for our sessions, we're going to focus on something else entirely." She picked up the chalk and wrote two phrases under John's list: _Trusting your Allies,_ and _Physical Defense._

"Trust," Celia said, "is _the_ most important thing we can teach you. Nine times out of ten, you're going into battle as part of a group - if you don't trust your group, you're dead. Simple as that. You need to trust that your group members have your back, and they need to trust that you have theirs. You need to know - not think, but _know_ \- that they won't turn on you the instant your back's turned, and they need to know the same about you. You need to know everyone else's moves as well as your own, and you need to know that everyone is going to pull his or her weight - if just one person panics or flees, months of planning can fall apart in seconds. This all applies if you find yourself alone as well - you need to know who you can contact to get help or information."

"Obviously," John added, "you can't account for everything ahead of time - plenty of teams who'd been working together for years and trusted each other like family lost people during the war - but trust gives you an incredible advantage, especially against those who practice the Dark Arts, who hardly ever trust anyone at all.

"During these sessions, we're going to ask you to do some things that might make you uncomfortable - we want you to at the very least give them a try; in battle, you're always uncomfortable, always going up against the unexpected, and we want to try to counterbalance that with as rock-solid a foundation as we can possibly give you. If you walk out of this class at the end of the year trusting just one more person than you did when you started, you'll have made progress."

"Our other focus will be physical defense," Celia said. "It's not really something wizards think about all that much, which is a huge mistake - if you lose your wand for any reason and don't have a backup mode, you're screwed. But we'll focus more on that another time - we won't be having you doing any sort of fighting, magical or otherwise, until we see our trust exercises start to be successful. Right now, we want you to pair off, preferably with someone you don't already know really well, then line up against the wall." The students did as she asked, and Celia waved her wand, scattering a large assortment of objects in various shapes and sizes around the room.

"Right, here's your task," she told them. "You and your partner are going to take turns being blindfolded. The person who can see must guide their partner across the room using only their voice - at no time are you allowed to touch each other. If you touch any of the objects, you have to start over - I'd highly advise against it, as some of them are enchanted to do some not-so-nice things when hit. Blindfolded people must trust their partners to get them across safely, and guides must not abuse that trust. We're going to go one group at a time, and you're to pay attention to each pair so you can learn what works and what doesn't. Understood?"

If any of them thought the idea was stupid, their derision quickly dissipated once they'd actually attempted the exercise. At first, they went one couple at a time and everyone got through with very little trouble, but then Celia and John had them try it again with multiple pairs crossing simultaneously, often in different directions. This variation proved much more difficult – several people bumped into the scattered objects, which then sprayed everyone with jets of ice water or filled the room with billowing clouds of pink smoke. Even Hermione, whose senses had sharpened exponentially during her year on the run, had trouble distinguishing Laura's commands from those of the other girls directing their partners.

"Point proven," John told them at the end of class. "Building trust takes time. Your homework is to practice these trust walks – have someone walk you to a class, to dinner, or to your common room. Keep up the good work with your spells, and we'll be back hopefully before Halloween." The bell rang to signal the end of the period, and the students retreated to their common rooms, utterly exhausted after another demanding week.

Hermione was restless all next morning – she was trying to get a head start on her Transfiguration essay, but her eyes kept drifting to the clock. In just a matter of hours, Harry would arrive, and she was looking forward to seeing one of her best friends – the year was going well so far, but it didn't feel the same without her boys by her side. After an hour or so, she realized how pointless it was to attempt to concentrate when her mind was so obviously elsewhere, and she left the common room to clear her head with a long walk around the grounds, stopping by the Great Hall to grab a sandwich on her way out.

Hermione had made it down to the lake and was making herself comfortable under a large tree when a gleaming silver cat materialized in front of her.

_"Your guest has arrived, Miss Granger. We'll wait for you in my office."_

The last half of Professor McGonagall's message was drowned out by Hermione's squeal as she shot to her feet and took off towards the castle. Halfway up the marble staircase, she realized she had no idea where Draco was – as he was supposed to be coming with her, she supposed she'd have to take a detour and go find him. Just as she was contemplating the quickest route to their common room, Draco himself came around the corner, schoolbag slung over his shoulder and arms loaded down with books.

"Draco!" she cried, skidding to a halt. He almost dropped his books in shock at the grin on her face – he'd never seen her direct anything even remotely close to such an expression his way before.

"Judging by the look on your face, I'd say Potter's arrived," he said almost cautiously.

"A brilliant deduction, my dear Holmes…now let's go." She grabbed his arm and began to drag him down the corridor.

"Merlin, Granger!" he exclaimed, brushing her off as gracefully as he could while still maintaining a grip on his books, "it's not like Potter's going to disappear if you're not there in the next thirty seconds…"

"Sorry," she muttered, a faint blush staining her cheeks as she slowed to a more normal pace. She managed to keep herself in check until they reached Professor McGonagall's office, but she let out a shriek as soon as she saw the young man sitting in the visitor's chair.

"Oh, _Harry!"_ Hermione launched herself across the room into her friend's waiting arms, and he twirled her in a circle before squeezing her into a bone-crushing hug.

"Hermione!" Harry laughed as he set her down again, "it's so good to see you! We've missed you."

"Missed having someone to clean up after you, you mean," Hermione replied with a smirk.

"Oh, come off it!" Harry moaned. "You know that's not what I meant!" Hermione chuckled again, and Harry noticed Draco for the first time.

"Malfoy."

"Potter." The two boys nodded to each other, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Can't you two be civil for once?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at them.

"Shall we get started, then?" asked Professor McGonagall, making them all jump. "I, for one, would love to know what Miss Granger has to say." She conjured two more chairs and motioned for them all to sit. For the next few minutes, everyone was quiet as Hermione explained her thoughts.

"I do believe, Miss Granger, that you have a valid point," the Headmistress conceded once Hermione had finished speaking. "As you said, we had enough problems on our hands with people not believing the truth in your fifth year – with the Wizarding world still in such a fragile state, having a similar divide could prove disastrous. I think it's a fine idea."

"I'll have to see if I can get off, obviously," Harry said.

"Oh, please," Draco snorted. "You're Harry freaking Potter, for Merlin's sake – isn't that alone enough to get you a day off once in a while?"

"Unfortunately, yeah, it probably would be," Harry admitted, "except I specifically told the Head Aurors that I didn't want preferential treatment when I started the academy – so far, they've actually stuck to my request. I rather like being as anonymous as I can at the moment – surely you can appreciate that?" Draco hated to admit it, but Potter was right – as much as Draco had craved attention when he was younger, the last few years had been a harsh reality check. Being in the spotlight, regardless of what side you were on, wasn't fun at all.

"Well, then," Professor McGonagall said, "I suspect we're finished here for now. Miss Granger, I'll arrange a time for you to meet with Professor Flitwick so you can iron out the details for the night of. In the meantime, I suggest you all go enjoy the rest of this fine afternoon." They exchanged farewells, and the three teenagers left the office.

"So," Harry began once they were halfway down the corridor, "how about you show me your common room, yeah?"

The walk to the common room was rather awkward, as Draco and Harry didn't seem to know how to talk to each other – with their lengthy history, Hermione didn't blame them, but she still huffed at their immaturity – it was high time they moved on. When they reached the third floor, however, Harry broke the silence.

"Oh, Merlin!" he exclaimed. "You weren't kidding when you said you were living here!"

"Did you think I was?" Hermione asked with a laugh. "Dear old Fluffy…just wait till you hear the password."

What Harry thought of the password, however, Hermione never found out, because as soon as she opened the door, a large group of people yelled, "SURPRISE!"

"Happy birthday, Hermione!" Harry said with a grin. Hermione could only gape in shock. Almost the entire Weasley family, plus her dorm mates and Luna, stood in the common room, wide smiles on their faces as they took in her reaction. Ron broke free from his family to give her a huge hug.

"I…Ron! Oh my goodness…this is wonderful!" Hermione finally managed to stammer out.

"Didn't think we'd forget your birthday, did you?" he asked, giving her his signature lopsided grin. "Last one as a teenager, you know!"

"Oh, Merlin, I'm almost _twenty!" _Hermione moaned, burying her face in her hands. Everyone laughed, and Mrs. Weasley stepped away from the table to reveal an enormous cake glittering with candles.

"Happy birthday, dear!" she said warmly. "Make a wish!" The group sang and clapped as Hermione obliged, and everyone was soon laughing and chatting as they enjoyed another of Mrs. Weasley's delicious creations.

"Don't forget about your presents, kid!" George called from across the room, gesturing to a stack of packages on the coffee table.

"Oh, you shouldn't have!" Hermione exclaimed, another blush coloring her face.

Draco had been just as surprised as Hermione when they'd entered the common room – she'd given no indication at all that it was her birthday, and of course he hadn't had a reason to know it before now. He stayed as long as was necessary to not appear rude, but the sheer number of redheads was making him uncomfortable – the only one who'd given him an openly dirty look was Ron, but Draco had been positively awful to almost all of them at one point or another. After finishing his slice of cake (which even he had to admit was amazing), he nodded to Hermione and retreated to the safety of his dorm. He'd barely sat down on his bed when there was a knock at the door.

"Malfoy?" Draco sighed. He didn't really want to talk to Potter, but he couldn't come up with a valid reason to keep him out either.

"Come in." Harry obliged and sat on Neville's trunk, absentmindedly fiddling with his fingers. Finally, he spoke.

"I wanted to talk to you…about Hermione."

"What about her?" Draco questioned.

"Well…" Harry paused, as if unsure how to phrase his next statement. "She told me everything that's been going on – in her letter, you know. It sounds like you two have come to some sort of understanding…watch out for her, please?"

"I…what?"

"Watch out for her," Harry repeated. "Hermione's really strong, but she's been through a lot lately, and she needs someone there for her. That letter, and what she's trying to do, prove to me that she trusts you – I still don't like you all that much, but I have to admit that's huge. Hermione doesn't give her trust to just anyone. Just…keep an eye on her for me?"

"Potter, I'm not going to be her consolation prize just because you and Weasel didn't come back to school," Draco warned.

"That's not what I meant, Malfoy," Harry said sharply. "Hermione needs to know somebody's got her back. Merlin knows why, but she trusts you, and if she can do that, that's good enough for me. But just so you know, if you hurt her, I'll make sure you pay for it."

"Good grief, Potter, we're not dating," Draco said.

"I did _not_ need that mental image," Harry replied. "No, you aren't, thank Merlin, but the sentiment's the same – my best friend has given you her trust, and if you mess with that, you _will_ regret it. Hermione's really special – please treat her like she deserves."

"I wouldn't dream of doing anything else," Draco said sincerely. "You might not believe me, and quite frankly, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, but what happened at my house last spring has haunted me every night since. I want – need – to make that up to all of you, her especially, and I'm not about to do anything to screw that up."

"Alright, then." Harry nodded and made to leave. When he got to the door, he turned back for a moment. "I believe you – I can't escape them either. Take care, Malfoy."

Once Harry had gone, Draco flopped back against the pillows and studied the canopy of his four-poster. Three weeks into his eighth year, and he was already playing Quidditch with a Weasley, celebrating birthdays with Granger, and confiding in Potter – if he didn't watch himself, the Golden Trio would become a quartet and he'd find himself wearing scarlet and gold. He got along with Lisa, Susan, and Justin as well, but as the Ravenclaws and Slytherins had always been on decent terms and the Hufflepuffs were nice to everybody on principle, Draco hardly found those relationships as strange as the ones he now seemed to have with the Gryffindors. Given their history, he thought they were giving him far more than he deserved.


	13. The Story of a Ghost

**A/N: Thank you illgirl91 &amp; eyesofhazel (it won't let me put the dots in for some reason, sorry!) for the follows/favorites!**

**Here's the next chapter - as always, anything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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"Harry?" Hermione called. "I just checked with Professor Flitwick and everything seems to be working fine. Are you sure you don't need anything else?"

"Hermione, honestly," he chuckled, "I'm talking to a bunch of teenagers, not giving a formal presentation in front of the Wizengamot." Hermione blushed.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "Bad habit." He laughed aloud at that and gently tugged her ponytail.

"Without your 'bad habits', as you call them, you wouldn't be the Hermione Granger we know and love," he said, tapping her nose. "Let's get in there, shall we?" Hermione answered his question with a small smile – somehow, Harry had a way of always saying exactly what she needed to hear.

After her surprise party, Hermione had been busier than ever, with hardly a spare moment to enjoy the beautiful autumn that had descended upon the castle. Lush greens gave way to vibrant golds, burnt oranges, and deep reds as the trees changed colors, and a chill in the air had students reaching for slightly warmer cloaks. September gave way to October, and before anyone knew it, it was Halloween. Hermione knew, of course, that they'd done everything they could to prepare for Harry's visit and subsequent talk with the school, but she was still nervous – the truths they were about to reveal were so drastically different from what most people believed, and she had no idea what kind of reaction to expect.

Hermione and Harry joined the other eighth years, Ginny, and Luna at their customary table in the Great Hall for the feast. The first part of the meal went smoothly, but whispers started to reach their ears as students nearby realized just who was present.

"Is that who I think it is?"

"The dark-haired guy between Granger and Weasley – you don't think…"

"Oh _Merlin,_ is that really _Harry Potter?"_

The comments weren't anything the friends weren't used to, of course, but they were still rather annoying. Finally, Professor McGonagall called for their attention, and the chattering ceased.

"Good evening, everyone," she said. "As some of you have no doubt already noticed, we have a special guest with us this evening. He has something he wishes to share with all of you, and I expect nothing less than your utmost respect and attention. Mr. Potter, if you'll come forth, please?"

The whispering immediately quadrupled in magnitude as Harry obliged, but the awestruck students fell silent just as quickly at Professor McGonagall's stern look. Harry settled himself on a stool in front of the teachers' table, cleared his throat, and began to speak.

"Er…hi everyone," he said. "Glad I could be here, and all that. But I really don't want to take up all your time, especially not on a holiday, so I'll get right to the point.

"Halloween's a good time for stories, and I'd like to tell you one, if that's alright with you. It's not a ghost story, but it's the story of a ghost, a man who successfully hid his true self so well for so long that only one other person even knew that self still existed. That 'other person' was Albus Dumbledore, and this is the story of Severus Snape."

A new muttering, a much angrier one rather like disturbed hornets, broke out at Harry's declaration, but he quickly silenced it with a blast from his wand.

"I know many of you feel like you have quite a lot to say at the moment, but don't," he said bluntly. "You lot can go chatter away all you want once I'm done, but don't start until I've said my bit." The murmurs died once more, and Harry continued.

"How many of you know who the Hogwarts ghosts are?" he asked. Most of the students raised their hands, and Harry nodded. "Alright…Jimmy," he called to one of his former Beaters, "who are they?"

"Well," Jimmy replied, ticking them off on his fingers, "there's Nick, of course, and the Fat Friar, and the Baron…"

""You're giving me names," Harry interrupted. "That's not what I asked. I asked, 'Who are they?' Each of those names has a story behind it, if you think to ask. But that's just it, of course – you can't know if you don't ask. Severus Snape had his own story, but of course nobody thought to ask – most of us were too afraid of him. I myself didn't know the truth until it was too late – but then, is it really too late, if I have a chance to pass along that truth?" Harry reached into his pocket and removed a small crystal vial.

"I am going to show you some memories," he said. "Some were given to me by Professor Snape moments before he died, and others are my own." He poured the contents of the vial into his former Headmaster's Pensieve, which sat on a small podium next to his stool. With Professor Flitwick's help, Hermione had charmed the basin so that, rather than require anyone to physically immerse themselves into the substance within, it would project the memories up onto the wall, much like a drive-in movie screen. As soon as the vial was empty, the image of three small children flickered to life, and the gathered students watched Severus Snape as he watched the sisters in the park.

"My mum," Harry said, pointing out the redheaded girl as she swung, a gleeful expression on her face. "Lily Evans Potter, and her sister, my Aunt Petunia. They met Snape before my mum even knew she was a witch – she was Muggle-born, you see. As you can tell, that first meeting went rather badly, but my mum and Snape soon became good friends." He fell silent as the rest of the memories played out.

Hermione watched the memories unfold in silence. Harry had obviously already told her and Ron the whole story, but actually seeing it play out before her brought it into a whole new relief. She felt Lily's anger when Snape called her a Mudblood, but she also felt Snape's pain – one word, just one wrong word, and he'd lost everything that mattered to him. It only got worse as the memories progressed and Snape's despair became more evident – she choked back a sob when Snape told Dumbledore that Lily was dead, and by the time Snape revealed his Patronus, she was openly crying. She didn't think she'd ever witnessed something so heartbreaking.

"Severus Snape – an enigma if there ever was one," Harry said quietly. His voice sounded strained, like he was trying hard not to shed tears himself. "To the world, he was cold, aloof, and at times downright scary…but he was so much more. My first year, the Sorting Hat said this of Slytherins: 'those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends'. We tend to assume that's a bad thing, but it doesn't have to be – there's nothing wrong with ambition or dedication. Snape's 'end', so to speak, was his goal of ensuring that my mum didn't die in vain, and he pursued that goal until the day he died. He'd been a devoted servant of Voldemort, but the instant my mum's life was in danger, that was no longer the case. He became a spy for the Order of the Phoenix and did everything he could to bring down the monster that killed the woman he loved – and he did it so well that no one ever knew the truth.

"I have one more memory to share with you before I go," Harry continued. "This one, however, is not Snape's, but my own." He prodded the silvery substance in the Pensieve, which swirled and began to play once more. The Hogwarts grounds came into view, and many sharp intakes of breath were heard as the Dark Mark became visible, hovering eerily over the Astronomy Tower.

Hermione had barely even heard Harry speak of this moment before, outside necessary testimonies the previous summer, and as the memory unfolded, it became clear as to why. The conversation between Draco and Professor Dumbledore was far more difficult to hear than she'd anticipated – witnessing the normally stoic Slytherin's utter desperation, sensing the fear radiating from him, was awful, and she found herself unconsciously reaching for both Ginny and Draco for comfort, finding their hands under the table. Draco's was trembling uncontrollably as he watched, and Hermione felt fresh tears running down her cheeks. They'd been on opposite sides of the war, but she understood all too well the helplessness of impossible decisions in the name of those you loved. She bit her lip to keep from crying out when Snape cast the _Avada_, and she couldn't miss the look of complete despair in the Potions Master's dark eyes as he did so – with that curse died the only person who knew him for who he was, the only person who gave him any semblance of hope or redemption.

When the memory finally ended, the Hall was silent save for the excessive sniffling of the many students who were still crying. Taking advantage of the lack of talk, Harry spoke up one final time.

"No one can deny that Severus Snape killed Albus Dumbledore. But there was no murder involved. You all saw it in Snape's memories – Dumbledore was already dying. I'm sure a lot of you remember the mangled hand he had before he died – he'd had a cursed object of Voldemort's backfire on him and had a year to live, at best. Dumbledore wanted to go out on his own terms, and that's exactly what he did – nothing more, nothing less.

"If you only take one thing from what you've seen and heard tonight, let it be this: the Sorting Hat should never be taken literally. By many counts, Severus Snape was the true embodiment of Slytherin House, but he was also insanely smart, loyal to my mum until the end, and one of the bravest people I know. The Sorting Hat places us where it thinks we'll fit in best, but being handed a certain color tie at age eleven hardly cements your destiny – that, you'll find, is entirely up to you. House pride is great, don't get me wrong, but at our cores, we're all a lot more similar than you might think."

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding and squeezed Draco and Ginny's hands. Draco raised an eyebrow at the contact but didn't pull away, and Hermione could see the relief in his gray eyes. Harry's presentation had been better than any of them could have hoped for – what the students did with the information had yet to be seen, but at least she could rest a little easier knowing they'd done their best.


	14. The First Match

**A/N: Thank you to MartynaS, kayla-michelle0523, &amp; silversprings-1997 for the follows/favorites, &amp; thank you to carrie76 &amp; Musicluver225 for the lovely reviews! Makes my day when people like my writing.**

**Without further ado, I present chapter 14 - time for some Quidditch! JKR owns all of importance, I'm just working my plot. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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November brought with it a wave of cold that left the students with little doubt that winter was on its way – no one lingered in the chilly corridors between classes, seats in front of common room fires became coveted, and glittery frost greeted them almost daily. Three nights a week, Draco and Lisa would return to the third floor in various states of frozen exhaustion. Phoenix Rising was scheduled to play in the opening match of the season, and Ginny had them training hard – as was usually the case right before a big game, they resigned themselves to very little sleep as they balanced long practices with even longer homework sessions.

The morning of the match dawned bright and cold. The eighth years chattered happily as they dressed – Draco and Lisa were the only two of them who'd been selected for any of the teams, and the rest of them were eager to show their support for their classmates. The two athletes had flat-out refused to show the others their team robes – "Ginny wants them to be a surprise," Lisa stated firmly – but she did at least tell them that either navy blue or phoenix colors would be acceptable choices. After the type of rowdy breakfast only an impending Quidditch match could bring, Ginny dragged her team off to the pitch, leaving everyone else to their leisure before they too wandered down to the stands.

Ginny paced the locker room as her team changed, a fierce glint in her eyes.

"Little Red, you're going to put holes in your boots if you keep that up," Draco said with a smirk as he pulled on his own. Ginny glared at him but stopped pacing.

"Right then," she said after she'd taken several deep breaths. "I'm not going to give you all some big inspirational speech, because that'll just make me nervous. Just…fly like you've been flying all week, and we'll be fine."

"And we'll look damn good doing it!" Sam said playfully.

"Oh, yes we will," Ginny grinned. Their uniforms were indeed sharp – the robes were a deep navy color with the entwined golden letters "PR" replacing a House crest and intricate flames decorating the cuffs and hems. The flames were so realistic that they seemed to move with the material. "Alright team, hands in!" The seven teenagers formed a circle, and with a shout of, "Let's go Phoenix!" they grabbed their brooms and marched out onto the pitch, where cheers erupted from the hundreds of students crammed into the stadium. Ginny spotted Hermione and the other eighth years sitting in the top row and flashed them a broad smile and a thumbs-up.

"Goooooood morning, ladies and gents, and welcome to the first Quidditch match of the season!" Ginny laughed as the familiar voice of Lee Jordan echoed around them. Madam Hooch had asked Lee if he'd like to come back to commentate for the special season, and the dreadlocked young man had jumped at the chance. "We're delighted to have you here today, and we welcome today's opponents to the field – Phoenix Rising, Captained by Ginny Weasley, and Helga's Hippogriffs, Captained by Zacharias Smith." Smith's team wore robes in a bright yellow very similar to that of Hufflepuff House, the silhouette of a hippogriff head on their backs.

"Captains, shake hands!" Madam Hooch called. Ginny and Zacharias did so but let go rather quickly. A short blast from the whistle later, and fifteen broomsticks shot in the air as the teams took to the skies. Ian snatched the Quaffle when Madam Hooch sent it skyward, and the game began.

Just as he'd done at the trials, Draco continued to gain altitude until he was far above everyone else before he began circling slowly. Nothing, absolutely _nothing_, could compare to the thrill of a match, the rush he got when he knew the whole school was watching him play. The excitement he felt, coupled with Lisa's scoring the first goal of the game, made him want to do loop-the-loops, but he restrained himself – even if it was Quidditch, he still had to maintain at least some of his Malfoy dignity.

The majority of the match wasn't all that exciting, to be honest – Zacharias, the prat that he was, had refused to take anyone on his team who wasn't a Hufflepuff, and as the Badgers had never been all that great at Quidditch to begin with, Phoenix Rising had a comfortable lead fairly early on. The Snitch had yet to make an appearance, and Draco allowed himself a moment to take in the view below him. He caught sight of his dorm mates cheering in the stands and grinned, and he whistled appreciatively as Ginny scored a particularly spectacular goal. Draco might have hated all things Weasley in the past, but he had to admit that Ginny was a bloody fantastic Quidditch player. The fire on his teammates' uniforms flashed brightly in the November sun as they celebrated the goal, and he resumed his search.

"How's Drake doing up there?" Blaise asked Hermione, who had her Omnioculars trained upwards.

"Fine, I guess," she answered. "He's not really doing much – if I didn't know any better, I'd say he was a little bored." Blaise laughed.

"Yeah, well, that kind of comes with being a Seeker, doesn't it? You sort of fly around aimlessly for a while until the Snitch finally decides to show up." Lisa flipped the Quaffle through the nearest hoop as he spoke, and they cheered once more.

"Wait a minute – is that what I think it is?" they heard Lee ask excitedly. "Yes, I think it is! I think our Seekers have spotted the Snitch!" And indeed, Draco had suddenly plummeted into a steep dive as Kevin Summerby raced across from the opposite end of the field, both hurtling towards the small golden speck glinting near the base of one of the goal hoops.

"Come on," Draco urged his broom, "faster!" His Nimbus was a bit outdated at this point, but it was still a far better broom than Summerby's, and Draco was damned if he was going to lose to Zacharias Smith. Lower and lower he flew, racing around the goal posts as the Snitch started to take off again. He caught up with it barely four feet from the ground and pulled out of the dive, the little golden ball clutched tightly in his fist as he raised his arm in triumph.

"YES!"

The stadium around him exploded in cheers as Phoenix Rising's supporters celebrated. The team circled up as Lee shouted out the final score – 220 to 40 – and Ginny pulled Draco into a fierce hug. In the past, he would've been appalled that she'd dared to even touch him, never mind hug him, but now, he found he was too ecstatic to care. As they sank back to the ground, he caught sight of Hermione and Blaise waving madly from the stands.

"Party in the common room!" he called to them, grinning madly.

"Got it!" Blaise shouted back. "Shall we, Granger?" He offered Hermione his arm, and she laughed.

"Really, Blaise, you're ridiculous!" she chided, but she took the offered arm anyway, and the two began the trek back to the castle.

"Thank you, by the way," Blaise said when they were about halfway up the lawn.

"For what?" Hermione asked.

"For all you've done for Draco. He was a right arse to you in the past, but he does really want to make amends, and it means a lot to him that you're giving him a chance."

"Of course I am," Hermione said softly. "I think, if circumstances had been different, we could've been great friends – we're a lot more alike than I'd ever thought. It may or may not be too late for that kind of closeness, but it's never too late for second chances, and I do believe he really has changed for the better."

The party, as all Quidditch celebrations tended to, lasted well into the night in spite of the much smaller crowd in attendance. There was a large supply of both butterbeer and snacks, and the assembled friends reveled in their classmates' happiness as the team basked in post-match glory. Ginny blushed furiously when they praised her skills as Captain, and even Draco couldn't stop grinning as the euphoria continued. He'd gotten used to his team's victories being celebrated by only a small portion of the school – seeing so many people cheering them on today had been nothing short of amazing.

Professor McGonagall finally showed up around midnight to insist that the younger team members return to their common rooms, long past curfew as it was, but it was with a smile on her face that she congratulated them and suggested they all go to bed. They did so with smiles on their faces, and even Hermione, Quidditch novice though she was, had to agree that the game had given them some reassurance that everything would be just fine.


	15. Fireside Chats

**A/N: Hello again! Big thanks to SuperPotterWhoLockedDancer, MusicLuver225, I Heart Star Trek, &amp; Amanda Costella for the reviews, &amp; to SuperPotterWhoLockedDancer for the follow/favorite as well. The alternate Quidditch format was actually one of the first ideas I had for this story, so I'm glad you all seem to like it! **

**So...here's chapter 15 - hopefully it doesn't disappoint! Another update should be coming shortly as my work agenda for the next few days is very, _very_ short. JKR owns everything important; I can only claim the plot. Please let me know what you think, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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November rolled into December, and the students couldn't escape the Christmas spirit that enveloped the castle. This year's decorations rivaled those from the year of the Triwizard Tournament – in addition to the usual dozen monstrous Christmas trees decorating the Great Hall, everlasting icicles glittered on the banisters of every staircase, garlands draped themselves across mantles, and a huge wreath adorned the castle's front doors. The suits of armor weren't singing carols this year, but as this was more of an improvement than a loss, nobody was all that disappointed. It seemed the teachers were determined to make up for what had to have been an awful holiday the previous year by making this one extra festive. And festive it was – everyone spent as much of their free time as they could taking advantage of the thick blanket of white fluff coating the grounds, the snowball fights lasting long after it was too dark to see, and the eighth years discovered that the house elves made incredible hot chocolate, which the little creatures gladly delivered to their common room in vast quantities almost nightly. Draco had just left the library, arms laden down with books for his Potions essay, and was greatly looking forward to a steaming mug of the stuff. When he reached the common room, he found Hermione curled up on the sofa, dressed in a rather strange ensemble.

"Granger, what in Merlin's name are you wearing?" he asked, unable to stop himself.

"I…oh, hi Draco," she replied. "I'm wearing my…pajamas?" The tone of the last word made her response sound more like another question. What was wrong with plaid pants and an oversized sweatshirt?

"Yes, obviously," Draco said a little impatiently. "What I meant was…_what_ are you wearing on your feet?"

"Oh, damn," Hermione muttered, flushing scarlet, "I'd forgotten I was wearing them…joke present from George. He knows I hate the color…but they're so comfortable." She sounded like she was admitting something she shouldn't, and she tried to tuck her feet under her to hide the bright pink fuzzy socks she wore.

"Granger, you don't have to hide them," Draco said with a laugh. "I just never thought I'd see the day when you'd wear pink – you don't really seem the type."

"Oh?" Hermione asked. "What makes you say that?"

"It's Parkinson's favorite color, as she so nauseatingly reminded us at every opportunity, and as you're just about her polar opposite…" Draco took a seat in an armchair next to the sofa and held out one of the two cups of hot chocolate he'd poured.

"Fair point," Hermione chuckled, accepting the mug. She moved the enormous book she'd been reading to the coffee table and sat up, criss-crossing her legs underneath her. "What 'type' am I, then?"

"The red and gold type, of course," Draco replied, smirking at her.

"Oh, please. Just because I was in Gryffindor doesn't automatically mean I have to worship the color red," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "If you must know, my favorite color is purple."

"Like this?" Draco asked, gesturing towards the tie hanging loose around his neck.

"No…more like a royal purple. I don't really have a reason, it just is."

"Well then, if we're being so open tonight, my favorite color is navy blue." When Hermione raised her eyebrows at him, he continued, "Come now, Granger, 'just because I was in Slytherin doesn't automatically mean I have to worship the color green'." She reached over and backhanded his arm.

"Prat. I wasn't going to say that, I was just going to ask why navy blue," she said. Instead of whining about her hitting him, as she'd expected, Draco looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I suppose it's because I like the twilight," he said after a moment. "You know, that short time after sunset before everything goes black. It's quiet…and rather peaceful, really. I used to sit on my mother's balcony after dinner and watch the sky turn that exact color, before the stars started to come out." Hermione nodded.

"I know what you mean – it's one of my favorite times of day as well. I always liked it when my watch fell during that time."

"Ah…last year, you mean."

"Yes."

"What exactly were you doing, if you don't mind my asking?" Hermione looked at Draco, a little puzzled, but saw only sincere curiosity in his gray eyes.

"What do you know about Horcruxes?" she asked.

"Horcruxes?" Draco's tone made it plain he'd never heard of them before.

"A Horcrux is a magical object containing a piece of a person's soul," she answered.

"A piece of a person's soul? But how…I didn't think it was possible to do such a thing," Draco said.

"Oh, it requires Dark Magic, no question about it," Hermione said. "Tearing your soul goes against the laws of nature, you see – souls are maimed by blackness, by death. The easiest way to split your soul – and, by extension, create a Horcrux – is to kill someone."

"And you're saying the Dark Lord had one?" Draco asked.

"Well, no…he had six."

_"Six?_ Merlin, no wonder the man was mental…"

"If he could even be called a man," Hermione said darkly. "Anyway, that's what we were doing – Dumbledore had figured out that Voldemort had made the Horcruxes, and we knew he'd be impossible to defeat so long as they were still in play. We knew what most of them were before we set off – objects of great historical or personal importance, as one who thought himself so far above everyone else certainly wouldn't house a piece of himself in just anything. As for how many there were, it was a lucky guess, really – seven is the most powerful magical number, so we thought six Horcruxes, plus the bit still inside him, was probably a good place to start."

"That…tiara thing," Draco said slowly.

"Belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw," Hermione finished. When Draco's look of recognition changed to one of shock, she continued, "Three of the Horcruxes had once belonged to the founders – Ravenclaw's diadem, a cup of Hufflepuff's, and a locket that had been Slytherin's. The only surviving possessions of Gryffindor's are the Sorting Hat and his sword, and as we'd come into contact with both before, we knew neither was a Horcrux. The other three were a diary of Riddle's, which fell into Ginny Weasley's hands right before she started at Hogwarts, a Marvolo family ring, and Nagini."

"That awful snake?" Draco asked.

"Yes," Hermione said, visibly shuddering. "I hate that thing – it almost killed Harry and me in Godric's Hollow."

"If it's any consolation, I had the damn thing living in my house," Draco replied. "I was glad when the school term started just so I could get away from it. Can't say I like snakes very much."

"Slytherin would be rolling in his grave to hear you say that," Hermione teased, "but I get what you mean. We were a bit surprised when we discovered she'd been made a Horcrux – it's not advisable to use living things, since there's a much greater risk of harm befalling them – but she was the sixth."

"Okay, so you knew what these things were – but they could've been anywhere. How did you find them, and how did you get rid of them?"

"Well yes, it does seem a rather daunting prospect, doesn't it? Dumbledore took care of the ring – it carried the curse that destroyed his hand – and he and Harry discovered the hiding place of the locket, although Regulus Black, Sirius Black's younger brother, had gotten there first. He figured out what Voldemort was doing and wanted to stop him, so he stole the real locket and replaced it with a fake. That's what Harry and Dumbledore brought back with them the night Dumbledore died, but neither knew it was a fake until it was too late. Of course, we had to find the real one, which led to us breaking into the Ministry of Magic. We stole Hufflepuff's cup from your aunt and uncle's Gringotts vault, Neville killed Nagini during the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry destroyed the diary in the Chamber of Secrets back in second year, and the Fiendfyre finished off the diadem," Hermione finished breathlessly. Draco was silent for several long moments as he processed her story.

"You…the most wanted wizards in all of England…broke into the Ministry of Magic, and _my aunt's vault?"_ he asked incredulously. "Tell me, Granger, is that Gryffindor bravery the Sorting Hat goes on about synonymous with stupidity? What other mental things have you lot done?" Hermione laughed out loud at the stunned expression on Draco's face.

"I can't argue with you about the stupidity thing," she admitted. "More often than not, we did go rushing headlong into trouble. If you want the short list, we've saved the Sorcerer's Stone, tangled with acromantulas, killed a basilisk, rescued a hippogriff, aided an escaped convict, broken into the ministry more than once, babysat a giant, and ridden a dragon from Gringotts to a lake somewhere near Hogwarts, all while staying on top of our homework and out of detention." It was Draco's turn to laugh.

"You, Hermione Granger, are nuts," he said simply. "I never thought a goody-two-shoes like you would've done so many dangerous things."

"Don't forget illegal," Hermione reminded him. "Although I didn't personally do _all_ of those things – I spent the better part of second year in the hospital wing, as you probably remember, and Harry was the only one who actually faced Voldemort. I did, however, help Harry and Ron break nearly every school rule just by the end of first year. I've also taken four doses of Polyjuice Potion in the last seven years, three of which were illegal and one of which I brewed myself."

"You've brewed Polyjuice Potion?" Draco asked in amazement. Hermione nodded.

"In second year – Harry and Ron were convinced you were the Heir of Slytherin, and I thought it'd be a good way to find out, so I whipped up a batch, and they took it and temporarily became Crabbe and Goyle so they could interrogate you." Hermione expected Draco to be shocked or even angry at this revelation, but instead he burst out laughing.

"Granger, you never cease to amaze me," he said once his laughter had subsided. "I don't know if I should be flattered or disgusted that you thought me the Heir, or that I apparently had such an open conversation with Potter and Weasley, of all people, but the fact that you brewed such a complex potion as a second year is incredible. What else did you use it for?"

"Nothing at Hogwarts," Hermione assured him, "but I've also turned into Harry, a Ministry official, and your aunt." Draco nearly choked on his cocoa at her last statement.

"My _aunt?" _he spluttered.

"Yes, your dear aunt," Hermione said. "Not too long after…we saw each other, at your house. How else do you think we got into Gringotts so easily? We had Griphook with us, we had Bellatrix's wand…it made sense at the time, anyway." Draco looked down at the wand lying next to Hermione's textbook.

"I snapped her wand shortly after we left Gringotts," Hermione said, answering his unspoken question. "I loathed it – it was always against me, having served such a Dark mistress before me."

"But that's not your wand," Draco said slowly, nodding towards the table.

"What do you mean? Of course it is."

"No, it's not. That's not the wand I remember – yours is a lighter color, isn't it?" Hermione sighed.

"I lost that wand to the Snatchers," she said. "I don't even really remember the wand I used in the battle – just some random one we picked up along the way, I suppose – and I got this one not too long afterwards, once Ollivander's was up and running again. It works well, but it's not quite the same, if you know what I mean."

"I do. Potter took mine, that day at the Manor, and I used my mother's during the battle. When Potter gave mine back after the trial, I felt like I'd reunited with a limb I hadn't known I'd lost," Draco admitted. "I'm sorry you lost yours."

"Thank you," Hermione said quietly. "There's nothing to be done for it, obviously, but thank you all the same."

"You really are an incredible person, Granger, you know that?" She looked positively nonplussed. "Oh, come off it – even I couldn't deny that, no matter how much I wanted to. You defy everything Purebloods have taught their children for generations – you walked with your head held high from day one and produced magic the likes of which Hogwarts had probably only ever seen before from Dumbledore himself. You just told me you successfully created an N.E.W.T.-level potion as a second year, from what I understand you can produce a corporeal Patronus, and, at nineteen, your résumé has more on it than most wizards will accomplish in their lifetimes. On top of that, you slapped me across the face in third year."

"Only because you deserved it," Hermione said hotly, though her cheeks were tinged pink from the unexpected praise. "I was already extremely stressed out, and you were being even more of an arse than usual – is it any wonder I snapped? And what does that have to do with everything else you just said?"

"That moment was the moment I could no longer deny what I was up against," Draco replied. "With that punch, you proved that you'd do whatever it took to stand up for what you believed in, and as mad as I was at the fact that a mere Muggleborn had dared to lay a hand on me, I had to admire you for it. The instant you hit your mark, you proved you were a better person than I was – and you still are, quite frankly." The pink in Hermione's cheeks quickly transformed into a brilliant shade of red.

"I…I don't know what to say," she said quietly. "It really was just a lot of pent-up frustration."

"Regardless, it left a deeper message, and I have to admit I've greatly respected you since. You forced me to open my eyes to the extremely powerful, intelligent, and wholly _good_ person glaring back at me, and I thank you for it. Merlin knows I don't deserve half of what you've done for me."

"Draco, stop," Hermione said forcefully. "We've already had this discussion – what's done is done, and nothing can change that, but we _can_ learn from it and move on. I told Blaise after the first Quidditch match that you and I probably could've been good friends if things had been different, seeing as we do actually have rather a lot in common. I think this conversation is a good argument that it's not too late for that, don't you think?" Draco stared at her unblinkingly for several seconds, as if unable to process her speech, but once he did, he allowed a grin to spread across his face.

"Alright, Granger. Like I said before, I really don't know what I did to deserve a second chance from you, of all people, but I'll take it. Besides, anybody who can transition from favorite colors to deep discussions about souls without sounding completely mental can't be that bad." He stood and made his way towards the boys' dormitory, tugging one of Hermione's curls as he passed the sofa. She swatted his hand away playfully, and he smirked down at her.

"You really do look much better when you actually smile, you know," she said matter-of-factly. "Just a thought."

"I'll keep that in mind, then," he said. "Night, Granger – don't stay up too late."

"I won't. Goodnight, Draco."


	16. Reunited

**A/N: Thank you to ThebrideofRemus, gray0skies, johansen, mollsballs, GinnyPotter6891, carrie76, &amp; I Heart Star Trek for follows/faves/reviews! I seem to be doing alright so far - you guys make my day, seriously.**

**Chapter 16 - Christmas! I'm super excited for the next chapter, which promises to be a fun one. My plot, JKR gets the rest as usual. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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The final two weeks of term passed in a blur of exams, essays, and last minute Christmas preparations, and Hermione soon found herself packing her trunk for home. She was to spend the majority of the holidays with her parents, but the three Grangers had been invited to the Burrow for Christmas Eve dinner and Christmas Day's celebrations, and Hermione was looking forward to spending time with some of her favorite people. She and Ginny spent the train ride chatting happily about the upcoming festivities and reached London in good spirits, wishing their friends a happy Christmas before going their separate ways.

The days until Christmas Eve passed rather uneventfully – both elder Grangers spent the majority of the time at work, so Hermione took it upon herself to finish off as much of her homework as she could. She knew Harry and Ron would give her grief for this once she got to the Burrow, but she rather fancied the idea of having nothing to do but relax the latter half of her break and repeated that mantra to herself as she slogged her way through several tedious essays. Once the work was done, Hermione locked her schoolbooks in her trunk and set to wrapping the impressive number of Christmas presents she'd accumulated for her friends and family.

On Christmas Eve day, the dental practice closed for a short holiday, and the Grangers went on a quest for the perfect tree. The farm wasn't exactly close, and they wouldn't be enjoying the tree much anyway as they'd be at the Burrow, but they'd been choosing a tree from that very place since long before Hermione started at Hogwarts and weren't about to break tradition. Finding a beautiful fir took a surprisingly short time, and the tree soon stood in the Grangers' living room, waiting to be decorated. After a quick lunch, Hermione helped her parents take the boxes of ornaments out of storage, and they spent a good chunk of the afternoon reminiscing as they draped garlands over the boughs and recalled fond memories related to each delicate piece they hung from the limbs. Satisfied with their work, they enjoyed a quick cup of cocoa in front of the fire before heading upstairs to dress for Christmas dinner.

"Hermione, hi!" Ginny said brightly as the Grangers entered the Burrow's kitchen. "Oy, you lot! Hermione's here!" There was the sound of scuffling feet and hurried thumping followed by cries of delight as Harry and several of the Weasleys came charging down the stairs to greet Hermione and her parents. After exchanging hugs and hellos, Mrs. Weasley shooed the lot of them into the sitting room until it was time for dinner.

Dinner, as it always was in the Weasley household, was a grand affair. Bill and Fleur were dining with the Delacours and consequently wouldn't join them until sometime the next day, but Charlie, Percy, and George had all managed to come home for the meal, so Hermione found herself surrounded by people she loved as the eleven diners made their way through countless dishes of Molly's sumptuous cooking. Ron, as always, ate seconds of everything and still managed room for dessert, and Hermione was a little shocked but pleasantly surprised when George made a joke about a dish that had been Fred's favorite. George had essentially lost half of himself when Fred had died, and seeing him healing the way they all knew his twin would've wanted him to warmed her heart.

Full to bursting after their feast, everyone helped clear the table before settling in the living room to listen to the Christmas broadcast on the wireless. Mrs. Weasley whipped up a batch of scrumptious cocoa, and they all found themselves feeling pleasantly warm and sleepy as they enjoyed the carols. At the end of the broadcast, the Grangers bid the Weasleys goodnight and headed home.

The next morning, Hermione triple-checked her list against the large pile of gifts sitting in her front hallway before carefully stacking them inside her beaded bag – why she hadn't discovered Undetectable Extension Charms before, she'd never know, as they really were dead useful. After ensuring yet again that they did indeed have everything, Hermione took hold of her parents' hands and Apparated to the Burrow. The elder Grangers stumbled a bit on landing, not used to the foreign sensation, but they soon righted themselves and followed their daughter into the house.

"Merry Christmas, Hermione!" Harry and Ron said as she entered the sitting room. Both boys enveloped her in bone-crushing hugs, and she smiled fondly at them as she returned their sentiments.

"Merry Christmas, everyone!" Arthur's voice echoed as he followed the Grangers into the room. "Shall we get started on these presents, then?"

"Just a second," Hermione said, pulling out her bag. She quickly Summoned her gifts from inside and added them to the already sizeable pile beneath the Weasleys' Christmas tree. "_Now_ we can start!"

"That bag's still working out for you then, eh Hermione?" Ron laughed.

"Indeed it is," she replied as she passed him a gift. "Happy Christmas, Ron!"

"You too!"

Half an hour later, the living room looked like a war zone. Everyone seemed to have forgotten that the majority of them were of-age witches and wizards thoroughly capable of casting Vanishing charms, as they were all sitting waist-deep in wrapping paper, and Hermione had managed to slap a large purple bow from one of her gifts onto Harry's head without him noticing. He finally figured out what had them all sniggering and removed the offending object, but not before Charlie, who'd been put in charge of chronicling the day's events, had taken several pictures. Hermione's mother took photos of Hermione, Harry, and the Weasleys wearing their new Weasley sweaters, and as Mrs. Weasley had also made them for Hermione's parents, she insisted on a Granger family portrait as well. Andromeda Tonks Flooed to the Burrow not long after they'd finished presents, little Teddy Lupin in tow, and the teenagers had great fun playing with the rambunctious little boy until lunchtime. Bill and Fleur joined them in time for the meal, which was merely leftovers from the previous night's feast but just as delicious, and Hermione warmly congratulated the French witch, who was just shy of five months pregnant and positively glowing with pride.

The high-energy events of the morning followed by an equally noisy lunch left everybody exhausted, and Hermione and Ginny retreated to the sitting room for some peace and quiet. Hermione propped open a book on her knees and hardly noticed when Harry and Ron entered the room, but her eyes widened in disbelief when she noticed just what Ron was carrying.

"Oh my goodness – _Crookshanks!" _The cat gave a loud meow and jumped from Ron's arms to run towards his mistress, who scooped him up and held him close.

"How did you find him?" she asked, still not daring to believe that her beloved cat was actually there.

"We didn't, actually," Ron chuckled. "He found us. He's been in the attic all this time, can you imagine? He'd made friends with the ghoul and everything – but I reckon it's safe to say he likes you a bit better." Hermione laughed and reached over to hug her friend.

"Thank you so much," she said. "This means so much to me…oh, Crookshanks!" She affectionately nuzzled the cat, who then curled up on her feet, his large eyes surveying the mess still scattered across the floor. Hermione ran her fingers through his soft fur and made to reach for her book once more, but Harry's voice stopped her.

"Hermione, did you know you've got another present here?"

"Sorry?" she asked.

"Here – it was under the tree, we must've missed it in all the chaos earlier." Harry reached over and handed her a rectangular box wrapped in simple blue paper. The package was indeed addressed to her, and Hermione flipped open the accompanying card, wondering where the box had come from and who had sent it.

_I believe this belongs to you, and if we're to face off in Defense, I want you in top form._

_Happy Christmas._

"Oh my…" The note was short, but Hermione recognized the bold script.

"What is it, Hermione?" Ginny asked. Hermione studied the box once more, and although the idea seemed ludicrous, its size was perfect…

"It's…but how could he possibly…_no…_" she whispered. With trembling hands, she tore off the paper and carefully removed the lid. When she saw what was inside, she gasped and began to cry.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" Harry asked, clearly alarmed. "What's in that box?"

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "Nothing's wrong at all!" And indeed, beneath the tears, she was positively beaming as she removed a very familiar piece of wood from the package's cushioning.

"Bloody hell," Ron murmured, "is that what I think it is?"

"Yes, Ron!" Hermione cried. "It's my wand!" As soon as her fingers made contact with the wood, little golden sparks erupted from the tip, as if the wand itself was also expressing its pleasure at being reunited with its mistress.

"But…how?" In response to his question, Hermione held out the note.

"Does this handwriting look familiar?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly. Ron merely looked perplexed, but Harry stared at her in surprise.

"That's Malfoy's," he said. "I'd know it anywhere, the number of times I got stuck sitting next to him in class."

"Yes, Harry, it is! We were talking a few weeks ago in the common room, and somehow it came up that I'd lost my wand. I don't know how he did it, but...well, this speaks for itself, doesn't it? If this doesn't prove he's changed, I don't know what will." She smiled broadly, her eyes still glistening in the firelight, and cried, _"Expecto Patronum!"_ The otter burst into being more effortlessly than it had ever done with any other wand and gamboled playfully about the room, its bright silver hue reflecting its caster's joy.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were happy," Harry joked. Hermione rolled her eyes and punched his arm.

"Of course I am! You know what it's like to be so connected to your wand!" Harry smiled and nodded.

"I do," he acknowledged. "Malfoy's been a right git in the past, but he definitely got this one right."

"Why didn't he just give it to you at Hogwarts?" Ginny wondered aloud.

"Oh, I bet I know that," Hermione said at once. "I mean, it's a rather personal gift, isn't it? There's no way he'd be comfortable giving me something like this, not when we're only just becoming friends."

"Fair point," Ginny chuckled. "We may be house-less this year, but his Slytherin side definitely won out on this one."

"What does he mean, 'if we're to face off in Defense'?" Ron asked.

"Oh, our Aurors said we're going to be staging mock duels in class starting after the New Year," Hermione said, "which has just given me a rather brilliant idea."

"Oh?" Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Well, I have to thank Draco for the gift, don't I?" Hermione said. "But since he gave it to me in a rather round-about way, I plan to thank him in a similar manner."

"What did you have in mind?" Ginny asked with a smirk.

"Oh, you'll see," Hermione answered with a devilish grin of her own. "It's time for _my_ Slytherin side to have a little fun."


	17. Hawthorn and Vine

**A/N: Firstly, the thank yous - to azakiel, TheGirlWhoIsInLoveWithJapan, &amp; Artemis-Max-Katniss-McLean for follows/favorites, &amp; to Guest, Amanda, &amp; SuperPotterWhoLockedDancer for the reviews. (Sorry, no spare Dracos here...&amp; I'm a Ravenclaw myself, but I respect all houses - as Harry pointed out in ch. 13, we're all a little bit of everything. ;-) )**

**I _loved_ writing this chapter - I was originally going to do this completely differently, but then Hermione's idea came to mind &amp; I just had to go with it. Hope you like it! JKR owns all but the plot, &amp; all wand-related information comes from Pottermore. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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Draco's holidays were, for the most part, uneventful. He had Christmas dinner with his parents, but none of them spoke much during the meal, and he spent the majority of the remaining time in his rooms. The only exception was at the very start of break - immediately upon his arrival at the Manor, Draco went to his father's study, where he knew he'd find a box of miscellaneous items they'd collected throughout the war. He'd rifled through the box's contents several times previously, so he knew there were a few wands amongst the possessions. He was surprised the Ministry hadn't confiscated the box - he knew for a fact they'd searched the Manor more than once since the war ended - but perhaps they'd overlooked it. In any case, the presence of the box made things a lot easier. His father wasn't in the study at the time, for which Draco was glad - Lucius had sobered up quite a bit since the trial, but Draco wasn't entirely sure how much the elder Malfoy's views had really changed, if at all, and he had no desire to answer potentially awkward questions as to _why_ he wanted the wands. There were five in the box, and as at least two looked like they could be the one he sought, he took them all.

The next step was easy - the Ministry official in charge of overseeing the Malfoys' sentences had promised Draco a trip to Diagon Alley over the holidays so that he could visit Gringotts and restock any depleted school supplies, so he sent a letter to the man, requesting that the visit take place as soon as possible. He received a response in the affirmative that evening, and two days later, the official arrived to escort Draco to the Leaky Cauldron. Draco refilled his moneybag at Gringotts and visited the apothecary, then made his way to Ollivander's.

Draco was rather apprehensive about this last important stop, and for good reason - the wandmaker had spent the better part of the past year imprisoned in the Manor's basement, tortured and starving. He hadn't really understood why until Harry had told the story of the Elder wand at the trial, but once he'd heard the tale, Draco was shocked the old man had survived - when the Dark Lord wanted something that badly, he didn't play nicely to get it. A little bell chimed overhead as he entered the dimly lit shop, and Mr. Ollivander, who'd been sitting behind his counter, looked up.

"Ah - Mr. Malfoy." The wandmaker sounded slightly hesitant but did not demand that Draco leave, which the younger wizard took as a good sign. "What can I do for you?"

"I was hoping you could identify these for me," Draco replied, producing the five unknown wands from his pocket and placing them on the counter. Mr. Ollivander put on a pair of thin silver spectacles and picked up each wand carefully. The first two he pronounced the property of people who were now dead, and Draco didn't recognize the name of the third wand's owner, but the fourth caught his attention.

"Ah, yes," Mr. Ollivander said, smiling slightly. "This one, I know well. This wand belonged to Miss Granger."

"Granger - as in, Hermione Granger?" Draco inquired, trying not to sound too interested.

"Yes, of course. Ten and three-quarter inches, vinewood and dragon heartstring. A very special wand indeed - but then, as I'm sure you remember, the wand chooses the wizard, after all. It was an exceptional match - pity she replaced it."

"But this is still her wand, is it not?" Draco asked.

"I sense you know something about this wand - do you happen to know the exact manner in which Miss Granger lost it?"

"If you're asking whether I was present when she lost it, the answer is no," Draco said. "I'm assuming the Snatchers who caught her Disarmed her."

"Hmm...how much do you know about wandlore, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Not all that much, to be honest - why do you ask?"

"Wands are incredibly complex pieces of equipment. They form a bond with their owners, but that bond can be broken by force - Disarming someone can, in some cases, be enough to do just that. However, some bonds are stronger than others, and vinewood wands in particular are incredibly attached to their rightful owners. Given Miss Granger's rather formidable capabilities, I have no doubt that this wand would function as she knows it to were she to get it back." Draco was silent for a moment as he processed the information.

"Is that what happened with my wand, then?" he asked.

"Ah, yes, your wand. Ten inches, hawthorn and unicorn hair, wasn't it?" Draco nodded. "Yes, that is indeed what happened - as I understand it, Mr. Potter physically took your wand, along with two others, from you, which caused your wand to change allegiance – a change which, if I also understand correctly, allowed Mr. Potter to walk away from the final battle alive." Draco nodded again, rather uncomfortably this time. It was uncanny how much the old man knew.

"But I believe you got your wand back?"

"Yes, sir." Draco withdrew it as proof. "After...everything, Potter returned my wand to me. Said something about not needing three wands." Mr. Ollivander chuckled.

"Well, yes...I believe Mr. Potter was more than satisfied with his own wand - no offense to yours, of course, it's a fine one. And is it working well for you then?"

"Yes. He allowed me to Disarm him to ensure the wand's allegiance returned."

"Not entirely necessary, I don't think. Hawthorn wands also tend to bond rather strongly with their original owners - seeing just how well suited you are to that wand, I'm not surprised it recognizes you."

"How do you mean?"

"Wandmaking is an incredibly complex art," Mr. Ollivander said. "The different components commonly – or uncommonly – used all have their own unique properties, as do the trees and animals that supply those components. Hawthorn is an interesting wood, Mr. Malfoy. Very interesting…"

Draco left the shop twenty minutes later with Hermione's wand safely stowed in his cloak and an uneasy feeling that Ollivander had known more about him when he was eleven than he himself did at eighteen.

Draco returned to Hogwarts as soon as he could, if only to escape the monotony of life under house arrest. His dorm mates joined him shortly thereafter, and the common room was filled with amiable chatter once more. Ginny stopped by on her way to Gryffindor Tower to pass along the new Quidditch training schedule – "Next game's coming up soon, can't be too prepared!" – and Blaise and Justin broke out the chess set almost immediately, preparing to add to the ongoing tally they'd tacked to the wall in September. Hermione, Draco noticed, greeted everyone enthusiastically but didn't seem as over the moon as he'd thought she'd be. It was only when she withdrew her wand to Summon something from her dormitory that he realized why.

_She's still using her replacement wand._

Draco didn't understand. Why would she be using her replacement wand? Ollivander himself had said that it was a shame she'd lost her first one – if it was so powerful and so attached to her, why wouldn't she use it? Unless…

Was it possible she hadn't received it?

He immediately ruled out delivery failure as the cause – Hermione could have spent the holidays in any number of places, but owls didn't need a specific address to successfully deliver something, and his owl had returned empty-taloned. Unless she'd somehow dropped the package along the way, the delivery wasn't the problem. The idea that he'd sent the _wrong_ wand was ludicrous – Ollivander had never failed to identify a wand, especially not one of his own making, and Draco had left the other four with him at the shop. Equally as ridiculous was the thought that Hermione didn't want her wand back – Draco was an expert at reading people, and it wasn't possible to fake the longing he'd seen in Hermione's eyes when he'd asked her about it.

Draco bounced several more scenarios around in his head, each more impossible than the next, before he gave up. He wasn't going to try to figure out how, but somehow, some way, she hadn't gotten the package. He had to admit he was a little disappointed, what with the upcoming duel in Defense and all, but he acknowledged there was nothing he could do about it.

Classes started up again, their lessons more demanding than ever. The professors reminded them yet again that their N.E.W.T.s would be upon them before they knew it and set them enormous amounts of difficult homework to stress the fact. At any time of day, one or more of the eighth years could be seen bent over a large book in the common room, quill scratching as they attempted to unravel the complex bits of magic they were expected to master. Everyone, even Hermione, asked the professors to clarify concepts in class, and the teenagers often studied in small groups so they could bounce questions off one another.

John and Celia came to Defense class the second Friday in January, and the duels began as promised.

"Each pair will have ten minutes to show us what they can do," Celia reminded them. "The rest of the class will stay against the wall and observe – we'll cast an extra-strength Shield Charm, almost like a barrier, around the perimeter of the room so those who aren't dueling can move around freely to watch without fear of getting hit. All magic save Dark curses is acceptable, as are the physical combat forms we've taught you, but no weapons other than wands are allowed. As these are formal duels versus those of battle, we expect you to follow the proper protocol – bowing and pacing off before beginning, the loser must declare himself accordingly, et cetera. We've arranged to come next week as well so that those pairs who don't get to go today won't have to wait a whole month. Any questions?" When nobody raised their hands, John read off the order of the day's pairs, and Ginny and Luna, who were first, took the floor.

The duels were as varied as those participating in them – some ended in a matter of minutes while others made use of the full time allotted, some were more heavily magical than physical, or vice versa. A minor mishap occurred when one of the seventh years mixed up two incantations and accidentally set the floor on fire, but a quick charm from John's wand doused the flames, and aside from minor cuts and scrapes, nobody was injured. After Neville executed a particularly impressive win over Blaise, it was Draco and Hermione's turn. The pair shucked their outer robes – the oversized sleeves and long hems would just get in the way – before stepping into the magically sealed dueling zone. They met in the exact center of the room, turned back-to-back, and counted seven paces before turning to face each other once more, where they waited for the buzzer that would signal the start of their ten minutes.

The clock started, and both students immediately began firing off spells. Draco had to dodge a couple of Hermione's better-aimed jinxes but otherwise felt himself keeping easy pace with her. _Almost too easy,_ he thought, but he brushed that aside in favor of ducking a jet of blue light heading his way. Any spell that missed its mark would harmlessly dissolve into the magical barrier at the edge of the room – as an observer, this was rather disconcerting to watch, and several people had tried to block oncoming blasts throughout the lesson before realizing that their charms had no effect on the barrier whatsoever, but as a duelist, it meant you didn't have to worry about any spells, whether your own or your partner's, ricocheting off the walls and hitting you from behind.

The duel continued for several minutes, neither party able to gain the upper hand magically nor get close enough to attempt to gain it physically, but finally Draco got his chance. Hermione hesitated for just a split second, and he pounced on the mistake, Disarming her with a flick of his wrist that sent her wand sailing into his outstretched hand. He tossed it aside almost lazily, allowing it to roll beyond the barrier where she couldn't reach it, before crossing his arms and waiting for her next move.

Draco knew Hermione wouldn't try to continue the contest physically, not when he had a wand and she didn't – he wasn't overly tall and had always been more lean than broad, but he still had a good five or six inches on her. What he didn't expect her to do, however, was submit so willingly – she _never_ gave up so easily, and yet here she was, sliding down into the classic stance of a defeated duelist.

But wait…no, she wasn't.

If she'd really been admitting defeat, Hermione should have been down on one knee, hands raised palm-out in surrender and head bowed. She had dropped to a knee, yes, but only one of her hands was raised up, more in a "wait a minute" sort of signal, and her gaze remained upwards. Without once lowering her hand or breaking eye contact with Draco, she slowly unbuttoned her cuff and reached into her sleeve to remove…another wand.

_Her_ wand.

"Oh, you clever, clever girl," Draco whispered, unable to keep the tone of admiration from his voice. The statement was just loud enough that Hermione heard him, and she returned his grin with a satisfied smirk before rolling up her sleeves and jumping to her feet.

The two halves of the duel were like night and day. It became clear to Draco in under a minute that Hermione had merely been toying with him before – the volley of hexes she sent his way was unbelievable, the pace of the duel skyrocketing beyond any he'd ever done before. Blinding lights flew in all directions as the pair darted around the room, creating and exploding obstacles as they dodged each other's spells. The clock signaling the end of their time went off, but nobody really noticed or cared – they weren't about to interrupt such an impressive duel, and considering how focused Hermione and Draco both were, it probably wasn't a good idea to try.

Hermione was drenched with sweat and her hair was falling out of her ponytail, but she didn't stop to fix either – a proper thank-you was her intention, and she meant to see it through. After nearly fifteen minutes of solid dueling, she managed to find a weakness in Draco's Shield Charm and shattered it with a well-placed trip jinx. Before he could react, she Disarmed him, darted forward, and pinned him to the ground, effectively eliminating any chance he had of continuing the contest.

A cheer erupted from the class as Hermione released Draco and stood up, a triumphant expression on her face. Draco rolled over onto one knee and bowed his head, but he was grinning too – he'd asked for the best, and she'd more than given it to him. Hermione's hair was a mess and her face glistened with sweat, but her mood was euphoric, and he could feel the raw magic still racing under her skin when she handed him back his wand. Celia and John praised their performance before dismissing the class, and Hermione and Draco's duel was all anyone talked about as they headed off for showers before dinner.

One thing was for sure – nobody would be forgetting the meeting of hawthorn and vine anytime soon.


	18. Who We Are

**A/N: Long list of people to thank today - thanks to atoumatoutou, leilanecris, SnowMonkey583, cassie2000, azakiel, Ajhtrumpet, Kmustard6013, lenanraz, &amp; Emmiloubob for follows/favorites, &amp; to leilanecris, carrie76, Thrisha, &amp; Amanda for the reviews! I appreciate them all, really.**

**Chapter 18, here we go! I've had at least part of this in my head for a while - I'll be the first to admit I'm a bit of a Shakespeare nerd (although I've never read _The Winter's Tale_). As always, JKR owns everything important, &amp; all wand-related info comes from Pottermore. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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"You, my dear Granger, are full of surprises," Draco said as they made themselves comfortable in the common room after dinner.

Hermione laughed and accepted the mug of cocoa he offered her. Even though the holidays were over, the eighth years couldn't resist the stuff, and the house elves had started bringing it up before any of them even had a chance to ask.

"I try," she replied. "Can't be everything you expect all the time, now can I?"

"Granger, please," Draco said, "the day you're anything anyone 'expects' will be the day flobberworms become interesting – which means it's never going to happen."

"I…well, thanks, I suppose. And thank you, really, for this." She tapped the slender piece of wood lying on the couch next to her hip. "I don't know how you did it, and you don't have to tell me, but it does mean a lot."

"Obviously, judging by that lovely little display you put on this afternoon." Draco stretched his legs out and leaned back into his chair, blowing gently across the liquid in his mug before taking another sip. For a second, he looked utterly relaxed, then he suddenly yelped and nearly dumped the cocoa all over himself as something leaped into his lap.

"What the hell…"

"Crookshanks!" Hermione scolded, "that wasn't very nice of you!"

"Crookshanks?" Draco asked faintly. The cat – was it a cat? It seemed entirely too big – was staring up at him with enormous yellow eyes.

"That's his name – he's mine."

"It – he's – _yours?"_ The creature blinked once, nudged Draco's wrist with his nose, and gently flexed his claws. Chuckling inwardly at the uncomfortable look on her classmate's face, Hermione got off the couch and hoisted her pet off Draco's lap. After settling back into her seat, she allowed Crookshanks to curl up on her feet, where he purred affectionately while she scratched his ears.

"Do you not like cats?" she asked softly. Draco couldn't seem to take his eyes off Crookshanks, as if he expected him to pounce if he dared turn away.

"I – no, I don't have a problem with cats, not at all," he said quickly, "but there's no way you can tell me that thing is merely a cat."

"No, he's not," Hermione agreed, laughing slightly again. "I don't really know his exact mix, but he's definitely part Kneazle at least." Crookshanks flicked his tail proudly, as if he could sense that his mistress was talking about him.

"Ah…" Kneazles, Draco had heard of – they were extremely intelligent, loyal to their owners, and uncannily good at sniffing out unsavory characters. "But aren't Kneazles roughly the same size, or even smaller, than most cats?"

"Yes, they are. Like I said, I don't know what else he is – but I've had him since right before third year, and he's been far more than just a pet since then. He was the first to figure out that Scabbers – Ron's rat, you know – was actually Peter Pettigrew, and he was quite fond of Sirius." Her eyes clouded over a bit as she said this final name.

"I think I'd be more than a bit freaked out if I realized I'd been sharing my quarters with an illegal-Animagus backstabber for three years," Draco said, taking another sip of his drink.

"Longer," Hermione countered. "He'd been with the Weasleys for over a decade by that point." She shuddered at the memory of the short, balding wizard she'd first met in the Shrieking Shack. "Anyway, yes, this is Crookshanks. Harry and Ron finally found his hiding place just in time to give him back at Christmas, so now I have both my cat and my wand. Life is good." She smiled brightly.

"Indeed." Draco stretched out again now that he knew Crookshanks was content to stay where he was. "So, Granger-"

"Hermione." When he looked at her, she raised her eyebrows pointedly.

"Alright, fine then. Her-my-oh-knee." He purposely stressed each syllable in an almost sing-song tone, then frowned.

"What is it?" Hermione asked him.

"I just…don't think I've ever done that before," he said.

"What, called me by my given name? No, I don't think you have," she replied, sounding faintly amused. "Was it really so difficult?"

"Terribly. Don't expect me to do it often." He paused. "What kind of a name is 'Hermione,' anyway? It's rather…unique."

"Says the one who's named after a constellation," she muttered.

"Hey! I'll have you know that's a fine upstanding Black family tradition," he retorted.

"Yes, yes," she said dismissively. "I knew Sirius and spent a significant amount of time in his house fifth and sixth year, remember? I've seen the Black family tapestry – constellations and stars all over the place. And if you must know," she continued, "my parents named me after a character in a play, by a Muggle called William Shakespeare."

"Ah, there we go," Draco said. "Shakespeare. Brilliant. So what's your middle name then, Juliet?" His tone was teasing, and the firelight danced off his eyes as he grinned at her.

"No, it's – wait a minute. How do _you_ know who Shakespeare is?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Granger, when was the Statute of Secrecy introduced?"

"1692, but-"

"And when did Shakespeare live?" he interrupted.

"1564 to 1616, but-"

"Exactly. Trust you to know the exact dates, by the way." He smirked and winked at her before continuing. "Now, if you'll recall from History of Magic, pre-Statute, wizards mingled with Muggles quite freely, and those with means supported Muggle endeavors as freely as those of their kin. The Malfoys were actually some of the most ardent supporters of this practice, and though we admittedly changed our tune completely when the Statute was introduced, we still give credit where credit is due."

"'Changed your tune,' indeed," Hermione snorted. "But you do have a point, I suppose. And if you must know, it's Jean."

"What?"

"My middle name is Jean. After my great-grandmother – she died before I was born, but she and my mum were very close. Hermione is a character in _The Winter's Tale_, which I guess isn't as well known as some of Shakespeare's other works, if you're not an aficionado. My parents thought they were being clever by giving me an unusual name."

"Fair enough. Juliet doesn't suit you anyway – you're not the pathetically tragic heroine type."

"I try not to be," Hermione agreed. "What's yours, then? No, wait – don't tell me." She held up her hand to emphasize the request. "It's Lucius, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. Been stealing a look at my birth certificate or something, Granger?"

"No, of course not," she scoffed. "Just an educated guess – it seems to be a trend in the Wizarding world that everybody's named after someone else, particularly firstborns. All the other firstborns – or, in Ginny's case, I suppose, the eldest child of a given sex – that I know are named after their parents, so it stood to reason that you were too."

"Merlin, Gran-_Hermione, _is there anything you don't notice?"

"Do you want me to answer that question?" she asked innocently.

"No."

"I didn't think so. So, the great Draco Malfoy, Pureblood extraordinaire, knows who Shakespeare is. What else don't I know about you?" Hermione propped one foot up on her knee and reclined into the cushions, twirling her wand idly between her fingers.

"If we're going with the 'Pureblood' vein – no pun intended, of course – then plenty," he answered. "Pureblood tradition requires that children be able to dance, play an instrument – the piano, in my case – make small talk, be a gracious host, greet others properly according to their social stations, and survive dinners involving more than one fork. As a nod to my familial origins, I speak more-than-passable French, and my father taught me to successfully manage investment portfolios, although I find the task incredibly boring. That good enough for you?"

"A bit generic, but it'll do. I wish I could speak French – I learned a bit when I was younger, and Mum and Dad took me to France on holiday the summer before third year, but I didn't really have a reason to keep up with it. I don't envy you the etiquette lessons, although I must say, it's a nice change from Ron's appalling lack of manners." Draco couldn't help but snort at this, but at the look Hermione shot him, he didn't comment. Instead, he cast around for a change of subject, and his eyes landed on Hermione's wand.

"What's your wand made of?" he asked. She gave him a quizzical look.

"Vine and dragon heartstring, why?"

"Ah, right. Ollivander mentioned it when I went to his shop – over break, you know, to figure out if that was your wand – but then he gave me a rather intense lecture about my own wand, and I forgot. Any idea what that particular combination means?"

"Sure. I looked it up ages ago, right after I first got the wand, in fact." She stopped twirling her wand and looked at it closely, her expression thoughtful. "Vinewood wands can sense good potential owners – mine emitted sparks the instant I walked into the shop, almost like it was calling out to me. Mr. Ollivander was very intrigued – he told me that vine wands generally matched with people with a 'greater purpose' who 'frequently astound those who know them best'. I suppose that fits – I mean, I did help defeat Voldemort, which I guess counts as a 'greater purpose,' and I certainly astounded Mum and Dad when they found out I was a witch."

"Don't forget you astounded Potter and Weasley, not to mention the rest of us, nearly every day of your Hogwarts career with your status as a veritable knowledge magnet," Draco added. She stuck her tongue out in response. "Very ladylike, Granger. You're right, though – the wood suits you. What about the core?"

"Dragon heartstring? It supposedly makes for the most powerful wands, as well as the most temperamental. I don't know about the temperamental bit – I've never had a problem with my wand – but they also bond strongly with their owners, which, I suppose, considering vinewood's tendency to do the same, makes me doubly connected to my wand." She paused and regarded it again fondly. "Regardless of what it is or isn't made of, I'm rather attached to it. Yours is quite a match as well, you know."

"And how would you know about that?" Draco asked her.

"Remember, we had your wand in our possession for over a month – we had Mr. Ollivander identify it, along with the other two we took from you, and, naturally, I was curious. I find it interesting that you, of all people, bonded with such a contradictory wand – hawthorn is as equally suited to curses as it is to healing, but unicorn cores resist the Dark Arts. Hawthorn wands work remarkably well for people with a conflicted nature or someone facing extreme turmoil – if that doesn't describe the last few years for you, I don't know what does – and that same wood works best for wizards with exceptional talent, which I can't deny also applies to you. Really remarkable how well the wand chooses the wizard."

"Really remarkable how you just told me nearly the exact same things Ollivander did, and you're not a wandmaker," Draco said, "but you're right. It's almost scary, in a way. How the hell can a wand recognize something like that in an eleven-year-old?"

"No idea," Hermione replied. "One of the great mysteries of life, I guess." She leaned her head backwards over the armrest and stretched her neck with a sigh before sitting back up again to look at him. "As enlightening as this whole discussion's been, I can't imagine any of it has to do with your original question."

"My original question?" Draco asked, looking perplexed.

"Yes – right before you went off about my name, you were going to ask me a question. What was it?" Draco was silent for a moment as he mentally rewound their conversation.

"Ah, I remember!" he said finally, snapping his fingers. "I just had a question about the Charms essay…"


	19. Something Unexpected

**A/N: Thanks to ivynacor, luminare91, Imthesun, LadyEm2, pmulbry, sylpheel12, cool825, &amp; TwilightLynn18 for the follows/favorites, &amp; thank you Amanda for the review! Glad you're all enjoying this so far.**

**Here's chapter 19! More Quidditch, &amp; some unexpected events. JKR owns all, I'm just playing. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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"Morning, Ginny!" Hermione said brightly as she joined her friend for breakfast one morning in early February.

"Morning, everyone!" Ginny glanced up at the eighth years and noticed that Blaise and Lisa were standing a little closer together than was strictly necessary, their fingers loosely intertwined.

"When did that happen?" she asked, raising her eyebrows and smirking slightly.

"Couple weeks ago," Lisa answered, her cheeks darkening just a shade. "I promise I won't let him interfere with Quidditch." Blaise laughed and nudged her with his shoulder.

"Like hell you won't," Ginny agreed, but she was smiling. "Seriously though, it's cool. Glad we're seeing some real inter-house cooperation around here. Have a seat, you lot." The group did as she suggested and started piling their plates high as they chatted about classes and Phoenix Rising's next match, which was to take place in two weeks' time. After a short while, the post owls arrived, bringing Hermione's usual copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and a letter for Ginny. Ginny was just about to unroll the parchment when Hermione nearly choked on her pumpkin juice.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked. In answer, Hermione pushed her plate away so she could spread the paper flat on the table. On seeing the headline, Draco groaned and Ginny made a noise like an angry cat.

_DEATH EATER INVOLVEMENT SUSPECTED IN LATE-NIGHT ATTACK_

"Read it, Hermione," Ginny hissed. Hermione quickly summarized the article for the benefit of the entire table.

"There was an attack in a suburb about a half hour north of London last night," she said, her eyes rapidly scanning the page. "No one was killed, but three people are still in St. Mungo's and an Obliviator team had to be called in because several Muggles came outside to investigate all the noise."

"What's up with the headline?" Susan asked.

"Apparently they still haven't caught all the Death Eaters," Hermione replied. "There's a group of about ten or so that have evaded capture so far, and it seems they've banded together and are getting bolder."

"That's what Harry's letter's about," Ginny said. She'd finally unrolled her own scroll and was skimming it hurriedly. "He says this is the first outright attack, and the Aurors have no idea what the group's objective is, or even if they're really working together. He says some of these Death Eaters are pretty unpredictable and he wants us to be careful."

"Since when have you two ever been careful?" Neville snorted. "Harry does have a point though. We'll have to be on alert."

"Well this is just great," Draco muttered.

"What is?" Ginny asked.

"This!" He gestured towards the paper. "I really don't need any more excuses for people to give me hell."

"Don't be ridiculous, mate," Blaise scoffed. "There's no way you had anything to do with this."

"And you know that, how?" Draco asked almost angrily.

"Because it's realistically impossible," Neville said. "Let's be honest here - it's not like any of us have slept soundly this year. We'd have heard you if you'd tried to leave the dorm."

"And even if you did get out, you'd still have to leave the castle," Susan added. "We may not have a curfew, but we'd certainly get stopped if we tried to go outside in the middle of the night." Draco sighed and pressed his fingers to his temples.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. "It's just...stressful and irritating."

"We're on your side, mate, in case you've forgotten," Blaise reminded him.

"Yeah, I know. Thanks."

Draco did indeed get dirty looks from some students after the article appeared, but no more than usual, and the only outward sign that anything had happened was the cancellation of the following weekend's Hogsmeade trip. Professor McGonagall requested that the eighth years also refrain from visiting the village until the rogue band was caught, and nobody argued - the last thing any of them wanted was to have to engage in a duel with a dark wizard over a shopping trip.

When the students woke up on the morning of the match, it was to find the windows heavily laced with frost and a steady stream of snow falling from an overcast sky. Hermione pulled two Weasley jumpers over her t-shirt before adding her winter cloak, a thick scarf, and a pair of warm gloves Harry had given her for Christmas. She then joined Susan, Neville, Blaise, and Justin for the trek down to the Quidditch pitch. None of them spoke much – Hermione cast a warming charm over the group as they set off across the lawn, but their breath still rose in puffs of steam as they huddled together, the thick snow crunching under their boots as they walked. They clambered up the stands to claim the same bench they'd shared during Phoenix Rising's first game and immediately set to work removing the accumulated snow with their wands before casting more warming charms and settling into their seats.

"Alright, team," Ginny said as she faced her players. The nervousness she'd displayed during the first match had disappeared – her eyes now sparkled with a fierce gleam that anyone who knew her would characterize as determination. "This is gonna be quite a bit different than our first go – unlike Smith, Livingston's actually got a brain in his head, and his squad's been training hard. You know what you have to do, so get out there and do it. Hands in!" The other six navy-robed students obliged, and with a chant of, "Let's go Phoenix!" they exited the locker room.

The snow was still falling steadily as they made their way across the pitch – it was by no means a blizzard, but the flying flakes still made it difficult to pick out individuals in the stands and would definitely affect game play. Ginny shook hands with Steve Livingston, Captain for Hogwarts United – his team stood in a semi-circle behind him, their robes purple with a small patch on the back striped in red, yellow, blue, and green. The fourteen players mounted their brooms, and with a shrill blast from Madam Hooch's whistle, they shot off into the wintry sky.

It wasn't long before everyone was chilled to the bone – the players raced around the pitch as fast as they could in an effort to keep warm, but a bitter wind still nipped at every exposed inch of skin. Draco's fingers were frozen within minutes – his winter arm guards came all the way down to cover the backs of his hands, but as a Seeker, he couldn't wear full gloves in case of a disputed Snitch capture. He swiped his fingers through his hair to dislodge some of the snowflakes and focused on the commentary. From what he could hear over the roar of the crowd, Ginny's prediction had been right – Phoenix Rising was ahead, but only just, and the lead had changed several times already. He flew around the base of Hogwarts United's goal posts just as Ian scored, and he directed his broom upwards to meet the sandy-haired boy's fist bump.

As Draco pulled away from his teammate and the Chasers began their quest anew, he caught a glimpse of something shiny overhead. At first, he thought it was just a trick of the snow – the sun had come out a little and had been throwing shadows of rainbows across his field of vision for the last ten minutes or so – but then he did a double take and realized this shadow had wings. Looping under Rose as she shot off after a Bludger, Draco turned his broomstick skyward and shot after the Snitch. Unlike the first match, there was no wayward chasing necessary, and he soon had the little ball tucked safely in his palm.

The crowd roared its approval when they realized the match was over, but Draco didn't pay them much attention – he, along with his teammates, was too busy focused on returning to solid ground and the warmth of the locker room. They stripped off their sopping robes and pulled extra layers over what they were already wearing before congratulating each other on another excellent match.

"Brilliant!" Ginny said, beaming at them all. "Keep playing like that and we'll have a good shot at the Cup! Sam, _fantastic_ Keeping today, by the way," she added. "You kept us in the game with some of those saves." The other girl blushed but returned Ginny's high-five, and the team made their way out of the locker room, eager to crash by the warm fire.

"Awesome job, guys!" It was Susan who had spoken, and the team looked up to see all the eighth years waiting for them, bundled up from head to toe but sporting huge grins on their faces.

"Thank you!" Ginny replied just as happily. "Sorry you had to put up with such horrible weather…"

The group kept up a stream of excited talk as they made their way back up to the castle with the rest of the school, but a sudden _crack_ and several screams made them turn quickly about, wrenching wands from their hiding places as they did so.

Hermione's heart dropped into her stomach as she realized just what she was seeing – somehow, the rogue Death Eaters had infiltrated the grounds and were now advancing slowly across the lawn. They hadn't shot any curses yet, but it was only a matter of time before chaos ensued. Ginny turned back to the group and hastily started speaking.

"We need to fan out, and fast," she said, her authoritative tone suggesting that she'd done this many times before. "Susan, Lisa, you're in charge of helping the teachers round up the younger students – get them back into the castle as quickly as you can; they'll only be in the way out here. Once they're safe, come back out. Neville, take center – Justin can go with you. Blaise, you'll go left with Luna; Malfoy and Hermione, we're going right." She turned back towards the assembled student body and shouted, "Dumbledore's Army, to your stations! For the Phoenix, fly!" A number of students echoed back this last statement, which Hermione suspected was a sort of rallying cry, and people immediately began moving as the Death Eaters advanced ever closer. After several tense seconds, a bright beam of light shot from someone's wand, and the scene exploded into pandemonium.

Draco and Hermione followed Ginny's group down near the lake, where they immediately took on several of the Death Eaters. Hexes of all colors flew over their heads as they parried the strikes with curses of their own. One of the lakeside boulders exploded when a Death Eater's spell hit it, sending massive shards of stone flying in all directions and forcing several people to duck to avoid being skewered. It was hard to move in all the extra layers, but the students stood their ground and fought fiercely.

_"Incarcerous!" _Ginny cried, ropes shooting out of her wand to ensnare the closest Death Eater. "Malfoy, behind you!" Draco whirled around to find another hooded figure bearing down on him and shot a Stunning spell at his foe, which he followed up with a Binding jinx of his own.

"Thanks, Little Red!" he shouted back as he jumped in to help Sam with her opponent. Soon, the Death Eaters who'd followed them lay bound at their feet, and all was quiet.

_Too_ quiet, Hermione thought.

"Hermione, down!" Sam yelled. Hermione dropped to the ground and rolled over as a green jet flew over her head. Scrambling to her feet and cursing herself for momentarily letting her guard down, she turned to see one solitary Death Eater advancing their way – one solitary Death Eater, followed by what had to be at least fifty dementors.

"Oh, Merlin," she breathed softly. This was _not_ good.

"Patronuses, go!" Ginny shouted. Cries of _"Expecto Patronum!" _filled the air, but very few students in Ginny's group seemed capable of casting the charm – Hermione's otter joined Ginny's horse and another seventh year's falcon and attacked a few of the closest dementors, but the three silver specters weren't nearly enough to drive back the whole horde. They also had to contend with the lone Death Eater, who was proving more powerful than any of the others they'd fought, and the small group found themselves retreating as they fought.

Hermione alternated curses and Patronus charms as she backed up the lawn, and she could feel herself fading fast – the charms she was casting were demanding, and she was getting tired. She was also freezing, her warming charms having worn off sometime during the attack. A Blasting curse hit the ground near her feet and she stumbled backwards, spluttering as bits of earth and snow flew up in her face. She shot a Stunner at the hooded man but missed, and as she tried to back up, she ran into something hard. Ginny leaped in to take on the Death Eater, and Hermione had a moment to take in her surroundings. Glancing down, she realized she'd backed straight into Dumbledore's tomb. The marble was still so white that it made the surrounding snow-covered grounds look gray in comparison.

"Oh, I wish you were here," she said softly. She pressed her gloved hands into the cool marble, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. Then she noticed the fine crack running the length of the sarcophagus' cover, and her eyes hardened, her heart aflame with anger. The crack was hardly a hair wide and barely noticeable, but it was a reminder of the desecration that had taken place there. Resolve hardened, Hermione turned to face her foes – this spot was sacred ground; she was _not_ going to let these Dark creatures anywhere near her. Bracing one hand against the tomb, she raised her wand to the heavens.

_"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

Her otter burst forth from her wand once more, followed by a blast of the brightest silver light she'd ever seen. She could just make out another shape amongst the light – something with wings? – before it joined the otter and charged down the dementors, which did not merely flee but instead exploded in a huge puff of smoke. Hermione steadied herself against the tomb, her knees threatening to give way. What on earth had just happened?

She only had time to register a shouted _"Stupefy!" _followed by someone frantically calling her name before her legs gave out and she fainted.


	20. Making Plans

**A/N: Thank you to vampiregirlz1 for following!**

**Here's chapter 20. JKR owns all; it's just my plot. Let me know what you think, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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Hermione woke sometime later in the hospital wing. Neville and Ginny sat on either side of her bed, looking concerned.

"Oh, thank Merlin you're alright!" Ginny cried, grabbing onto her friend's hand.

"Uh…" Hermione groaned. "What happened?"

"We're not really sure," Neville admitted. "Here, Madam Pomphrey wanted you to drink this as soon as you woke up." He passed her a small goblet filled with a smoking liquid.

"What is it?" Hermione asked warily. The potion smelled like it was burning.

"Variant on the Pepper-up Potion," Neville said. "It'll target your magical core." Hermione eyed the goblet once more before draining it.

"Ugh, gross," she coughed, pulling a face. "Stuff tastes almost as bad as it smells. I do feel a bit better already though."

"Could be worse, I suppose," Ginny chuckled. She still hadn't let go of Hermione's hand. "Hermione, do you really not know what happened?"

"I remember a lot of really bright light, but then I passed out, didn't I? What did I do?"

Before either of her friends could answer her, the door to the hospital wing flew open with a bang and Draco stormed into the ward, looking thoroughly annoyed, followed closely by Professor McGonagall, who was carrying the Pensieve.

"Damn Aurors," Draco muttered as he pulled a chair over to sit next to Ginny.

"What happened?" Ginny asked. "I know you went to debrief them…"

"Yeah, and they've been questioning me ever since, cross-examining lists and asking if I could identify any of the people we captured. I didn't know who most of them were – why would I? Just because I've got this" – he pulled his sleeve up a bit to expose his Dark Mark – "doesn't mean I knew who all the Dark Lord's followers were, especially not the lower lackeys; he was extremely careful about that."

"Regardless of who you are," Ginny interrupted, "isn't it the Aurors' _job_ to be able to identify dangerous people?"

"You'd think so," Draco replied with a snort, "but apparently not. Your boyfriend had better finish his training quickly – I don't think we can afford to wait another three years before we have competent people in that department."

"Did Draco Malfoy just give Harry Potter a compliment?" Ginny laughed. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Little Red, _anyone_ would be better than those fools I was just talking to," he said. "At least Potter's proven himself, even if he did have exceptional amounts of both luck and help." He turned to Hermione. "How are you feeling, Granger?"

"I…well, I'm not really sure what happened," Hermione said.

"I was hoping someone could explain that as well," said Professor McGonagall. They all jumped; in the aftermath of Draco's rant, they'd quite forgotten he hadn't arrived alone.

"Perhaps," Professor McGonagall continued, "this might help clear things up, if someone else has a clear picture of what happened?" She gestured towards the Pensieve. "As I understand it, Mr. Malfoy and Miss Weasley, you were both in Miss Granger's group during the skirmish." Draco and Ginny looked at each other.

"Malfoy probably has a better memory of it," Ginny said. "I was dueling the Death Eater when Hermione cast that final Patronus, so I'm not sure I got the best view of it."

"You know how a Pensieve works, Mr. Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall asked. When he nodded, she added, "Would you be willing to share that memory with us?" He inclined his head again and placed his wand to his temple, removing a long, thin strand of silvery memory, which he deposited into the basin.

"I think we should all watch this together, if we're to figure out what happened and what to do next," the Headmistress said. "Grasp hands, please." They did so, and Professor McGonagall made contact with the swirling substance, sucking them into the memory.

The quintet landed on the lawn about fifteen feet behind memory-Draco, who was helping Sam take down her Death Eater.

"Where are you?" Ginny asked Hermione.

"There," Hermione pointed, and the group focused on what her memory-self was doing. They heard Sam shout her warning, saw memory-Hermione duck and dodge her way up to the tomb. They saw memory-Ginny join the fray, and they heard Hermione shout her spell to the sky.

_"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

The otter sprang into existence, followed closely by the blast of light. They squinted closely into the blinding spell, and Hermione gasped when she realized just what had followed her otter out of her wand.

It was a phoenix.

The beautiful bird was enormous, easily several times the size of its live counterpart. The group watched the two Patronuses attack the dementors, and Hermione watched Draco and Sam bring down the last Death Eater – that accounted for the Stunning spell she'd heard before she fainted, and she heard Ginny cry out her name just before her past self collapsed. Draco and Sam rushed to join Ginny at Hermione's side.

"What the hell did she just do?" Draco demanded.

"I don't know, but we've got to get her to the castle! I think her magic's severely drained; she'll freeze to death if she stays out here much longer," Ginny replied. Draco knelt down next to Hermione, wrapped one arm around her shoulders and the other under her legs, and scooped her up off the ground. Ginny instructed Sam and Susan, who had just come back from the castle, to keep an eye on their prisoners before she and Draco set off towards the school as fast as they could. They caught sight of Neville just in front of the main doors.

"What happened?" he asked.

"We don't really know, but she needs the hospital wing," Ginny said. "Can you take her? We need Malfoy out here in case the Death Eaters try to do anything funny." Neville nodded, and Draco transferred Hermione to him before heading back out into the grounds.

"I think that will do," Professor McGonagall said. She transported them all back to the hospital wing, where they sat in silence for several moments. Finally, Hermione spoke.

"Professor?" she asked. "What – what exactly did I do?" Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke.

"I don't really know," the elder witch admitted. "I do believe your physical contact with the grave brought you some help, as strange as that sounds – Hogwarts does have its own magic, much of which the living can't even begin to understand. Phenomena like this are rare but not unheard of, and I cannot think of another explanation for such a particular Patronus." Hermione bit her lower lip and blinked rapidly, fighting back tears. She'd had help from Dumbledore? It seemed impossible – and yet, a small part of her knew it was true, and the thought warmed her from head to toe. Ginny squeezed her hand comfortingly, and Hermione smiled at her friend. The thought that Dumbledore had been with them, however distantly, was beyond comparison.

"Thank you all," Hermione said, "for what you did for me, after that."

"Not at all," Neville replied, ruffling her hair affectionately. "It's what friends do."

"Now what are we going to do?" Hermione asked, changing her tone abruptly.

"Sorry?"

"I said, now what are we going to do? Death Eaters just got onto the grounds; we've got to figure out how and fix the problem," she said determinedly.

"Miss Granger, I don't think-"

"I'm fine," Hermione interrupted. "I've made it through far worse – this is too important for me to sit out. What do we have to do?" Professor McGonagall extracted a scroll from her robes.

"This is a map of the wards," she explained, spreading it out across Hermione's bedspread. Ginny, Neville, and Draco leaned closer so they could see as well. "I've located the breach and the cause of the problem – they somehow managed to dismantle part of the Apparition ward, which was enough for them to get in. It's a fairly simple fix compared to most of the other wards, but I'm afraid we have a slight problem." Hermione spotted it almost instantly.

"This 'map' doesn't have any locations on it," she pointed out. "It's just a bunch of lines signaling the wards. How are we supposed to know where this breach is?"

"Precisely," Professor McGonagall noted. "Albus had some sort of clever spell that created an overlay of the grounds, but that was his secret alone, a secret that died with him, I'm afraid. There are ways to make the wards temporarily visible, but as that makes them incredibly easy to break, that's not an option worth considering when we don't know where to look."

"Professor, do you think you could do an overlay on a different piece of parchment that would make this one show through?" Ginny asked suddenly.

"I – well, yes," Professor McGonagall said, looking rather confused. "Why do you ask, Miss Weasley?"

"Hermione, you have the map, right?" Hermione's eyes widened as she caught Ginny's meaning.

"Yes, I do – it's in my trunk, top compartment on the left," she said. "Go get it, quickly!" Ginny left the ward at a run. The others gave Hermione quizzical looks, but she refused to elaborate until Ginny returned about fifteen minutes later, slightly out of breath and clutching a worn piece of parchment. She passed it over to Hermione, who silently thanked Merlin Ginny had had the foresight to activate the map _before_ finding herself in the presence of a teacher.

"What is _that?"_ Draco asked sharply.

"Enchanted map of Hogwarts," Hermione replied. "Professor, I know you probably have questions about this, but can we please not get into that right now?"

"Miss Granger, I can see from the heading just who this map belonged to," Professor McGonagall said with a wry smile. "I shan't ask how you came to possess it, and I'm sure it's played a role in quite a bit of your troublemaking. But that's neither here nor there at the moment, I suppose." She pointed her wand at the Marauder's Map and muttered a spell. The old parchment faded until it was nearly transparent, and they could clearly see the wards map still spread beneath it.

"Now we just need to line these up," Hermione murmured, shifting the two pieces of parchment under one another. "Aha! There we go!" She gestured towards the maps, which now mirrored one another perfectly. They located the breach in the wards at the farthest edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"That's not going to be an easy spot to reach," Professor McGonagall said heavily. "Even if you know where you're going, the Forest isn't easy to navigate."

"I'll go," Hermione said at once. When the Headmistress raised her eyebrows, Hermione said, "None of the teachers should leave Hogwarts right now, not until we're one hundred percent sure all the remaining Death Eaters have been caught – there's a chance they didn't all participate in today's attack, and the staff needs to protect the students. We also don't know just how long it's going to take to get to the breach, but we don't want to disrupt classes if we can help it – it'd be better if fewer people knew what a problem this is, since the last thing we want is a mass panic. I helped repair the wards at the Burrow and at Grimmauld Place last summer, so I already know the charm, and I've been in the Forest enough times before that most of what's in there doesn't faze me anymore."

"I'm going too," Ginny added. "Going into the Forest alone is never a good idea, and besides, two wands are better than one."

"Actually," Professor McGonagall said, "you're going to need three. The Hogwarts wards have an extra layer to them that requires an exceptional amount of magic to create, and it's going to take three of you to generate the required power. Mr. Malfoy, I'm going to need you to accompany Miss Granger and Miss Weasley on this little excursion."

"Me?" Draco spluttered. "You want me to go with them?" Hermione snorted in spite of herself – she knew Draco didn't like the Forest at all.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, you. The spells you'll be casting demand a high level of competency from all involved, and you fit the bill quite nicely. Due to your…experiences, your magic has a slightly different quality than either of the girls', which, contrary to what you might think, will actually help to enforce the wards even further."

"I have to stay, Malfoy," Neville added. "At least one of the leaders of the DA should be here, and Ginny's already going with Hermione, which she definitely should. Besides, we both know I'm not nearly as good at magic as you. Professor McGonagall's right – you should go with the girls." Draco sighed, knowing they were right.

"Alright," he acquiesced, "I'll go."

"Perfect." Hermione wiped the map with a nonverbal "Mischief Managed" and tucked it carefully in her pocket. "We'll prep everything tonight and head out right after breakfast tomorrow morning. The sooner we get this fixed, the better."


	21. The One in the Enchanted Sleep

**A/N: Thanks to Anthro23, DarkestNightWolf, &amp; Luvnee for following, &amp; thanks to carrie76 &amp; Amanda for the reviews!**

**Here's chapter 21, featuring someone's long-awaited return...hehehe. JKR owns all, I'm just having fun. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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The next morning, three cloaked figures made their way across the Hogwarts grounds, shoulders hunched against the cold. It had finally stopped snowing, but the resulting blanket was thick, forcing them to cut deep trenches with their wands as they walked. By the time they reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, they were soaked from the knees down.

"Dammit," Draco muttered as he threw off his hood. "We're not even in the Forest yet and I'm bloody freezing."

"Oh, stop your whining," Hermione chided, withdrawing her wand. "You're a wizard, aren't you?" She waved her wand in a complicated fashion, causing little tendrils of steam to rise up as she dried her clothes. When Draco made no move to copy her, she smirked and asked, "Or don't you know that particular charm?"

"Granger, not everybody likes being classed as a know-it-all," he retorted. When Hermione merely stuck her tongue out at him and made to start down the path, he groaned and said, "Alright, fine! I don't know the damn spell! Now can you please teach me?"

"Gin, write this day down in history," Hermione crowed. "The great Draco Malfoy just said 'please'!" She allowed herself another chuckle at Draco's glare before acquiescing and showing him the proper wand movement. When he and Ginny were both dry, Hermione pulled the map from her pocket, beckoning her companions closer.

"I think we should head toward the clearing Hagrid took us to during Care of Magical Creatures in fifth year, the one where he showed us the thestrals," she said, indicating the spot with her finger. "It's in the right direction, plus it has a whole bunch of different paths branching off of it, so I'd hazard a guess we can find a good way forward from there." Ginny nodded and Draco shrugged, which Hermione interpreted as an agreeable gesture, and she led the way forward into the Forest.

The trio walked in silence for nearly half an hour, the only sound the crunching of twigs underfoot. Only a few inches of snow had managed to reach the forest floor, and as they ventured deeper and the canopy overhead grew thicker, the dustings of white grew sparser until they finally vanished completely. When they reached their destination, Hermione cleared a space on the ground and they sat in a circle, the map spread out before them. They plotted their course and were about to leave when rustling noises caught their attention. They leapt to their feet at once and drew their wands, but not before an arrow sailed over their heads, narrowly missing Ginny's ear as it came to rest, quivering, in the trunk of an oak. Before they could so much as blink, they found themselves surrounded by centaurs.

"Who dares disturb our Forest?" the centaur Hermione recognized as Bane shouted. "You are not welcome here!"

"Silence, Bane," Magorian said. His eyes narrowed as he recognized Hermione.

"I thought we told you to stay out of here," he said, his voice dangerously low. "You used us for your own gain, and we do not take kindly to such insolence."

"I can explain," Hermione began, but Bane cut her off.

"You think we will listen to explanations from the likes of you?" he scoffed. "After you treated us like common horses, at your beck and call to do your bidding? I think not."

"Friends, is this how we treat guests?" Hermione looked up to see who had spoken and was met with a familiar face.

"Firenze!" she greeted the palomino. "How are you?" Hermione did not know Firenze as well as Harry or Ron, having stopped Divination before fifth year, but she'd met him in the Forest during detention her first year as well as spoken to him after the Final Battle, and he was agreeable enough.

"Well, thank you," Firenze replied, nodding his golden head. Turning towards his fellow centaurs, he added, "Need I remind you who this young woman is? This is Hermione Granger, friend to Harry Potter." Focusing his gaze on Hermione once more, he added, "What brings you to the Forest, Hermione Granger? Dark things happen here – even now, it is not a safe place."

"I know," Hermione replied, "which is why I am here. Did you know that Death Eaters broke into Hogwarts just yesterday?"

"Indeed," Firenze nodded. "The stars told us of trouble many moons ago." Ginny and Draco exchanged glances, and Hermione shook her head almost imperceptibly, willing them not to comment. Thankfully, they got the hint.

"They were able to get in because they compromised the wards surrounding the school," Hermione stated clearly. "The breach must be repaired to ensure no further trouble. The teachers mustn't leave the castle – they must protect the students, you see – so we volunteered to fix the wards."

"But you are barely grown," Bane sneered. "The magic of Hogwarts is ancient and complex – what makes you think you can control it?"

"Bane, enough!" Firenze snapped. "Hermione Granger is more than capable of such power. As for her friends…" he stepped forward and peered intently at first Draco, then Ginny. They both looked terrified, but neither spoke nor turned away. "As for her friends, I do not know them well, but I do know who they are, and they are both powerful in their own right. Hogwarts must be safe, and so we must let them pass."

"Very well," Magorian agreed. "You may pass through unharmed – the rest of the herd will be told of your presence. Be warned, however – if you show even the slightest of treachery, we will know, and you will pay." Without another word, Bane and Magorian turned their backs and left the clearing.

"Do not mind them," Firenze said softly. "Many of my kind are still…nervous after the events of last summer."

"It's fine, Firenze, really," Hermione replied. "I wouldn't have expected anything less." Firenze gave each of them a little bow.

"The quickest way to your destination is past the One in the Enchanted Sleep – he has not woken in some time, but I'd be careful all the same. Goodbye, Hermione Granger, and good luck." As soon as Firenze was gone, Ginny leaned against a nearby tree and let out a long breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"Phew," she said, "are all centaurs that intense?"

"They're an interesting people," Hermione acknowledged. "They know a lot, though, even if they do have strange ways of sharing it. Shall we keep going?"

"Who's 'the One in the Enchanted Sleep'?" Draco asked as they walked.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "It kind of reminds me of Sleeping Beauty – Muggle fairytale – but knowing this place, somehow I think it's something a bit worse than that."

After another couple of hours, they stopped to rest, and Hermione offered around some sandwiches and a flask of pumpkin juice. She was surprised that Draco didn't comment on the meal's simplicity or moan about contracting Gryffindor germs from sharing the flask with Ginny and herself, but she didn't say anything – he'd gotten so much more tolerable this year, and she wasn't about to give him any excuses to revert to his trademark snarky temperament. Upon finishing the sandwiches, they checked the map once more, Hermione cast a 'Point Me' spell to confirm their orientation, and they set off.

Sometime later that afternoon, Ginny, who was in the lead, threw out a hand to stop her companions.

"What is that?" she whispered. Before them was what looked like a vast mound. On closer inspection, it was moving slightly, and Firenze's words suddenly started to make sense.

"Ginny," Hermione asked slowly, "you have the flute, yes?" Hermione had discovered the flute Hagrid had whittled for Harry in their first year in the bottom of her trunk while packing the night before – how it had ended up in her possession, she had no idea, but she'd had Ginny bring it along just in case, and she was now crossing her fingers on their luck on that front.

"Yes, I do," Ginny confirmed, removing the small wooden instrument from her pocket and handing it over. "Why?"

"Because I know what that is," Hermione whispered. "It's Fluffy."

"Fluffy?" Ginny asked, just as Draco said, "That three-headed monster you told us about the first day back?"

"Yes, him," Hermione nodded. They crept cautiously forward, Hermione with the flute hovering inches from her lips, and finally came in sight of the enormous dog. Fluffy was fast asleep, curled up in a ball with his middle head resting on his front paws. His breathing, which would've been gentle for a normal-sized animal, seemed a steady, low rumble to their ears, and they could hear the faint strains of music wafting through the air.

"Well, that explains why he's asleep," Hermione said softly. "Let's try to go around him – be careful!" Going as slowly as they possibly could, they made their way across the clearing, never once taking their eyes off the slumbering dog. A light breeze ruffled their clothes as they reached the other side, and Fluffy let out a loud snore.

"Ugh, that dog really needs to brush his teeth," Ginny groaned quietly. They turned to leave when Hermione stopped them short.

"Listen," she said suddenly.

"What?" Draco hissed. "I don't hear…anything." His eyes widened as he realized what Hermione was trying to say.

"Exactly." The three turned slowly to face the dog, who was now wide awake and staring right at them. Fluffy growled, the sound rumbling deep in his throats.

"Hermione, the flute!" Ginny urged. Hermione didn't need telling twice – she quickly raised the flute to her lips and blew. The notes she played could hardly be called a tune, but it was enough – as soon as the great dog heard the music, he curled up on the ground and went back to sleep.

"Hermione, don't you dare stop playing," Draco warned. She nodded and watched as he waved his wand, muttering a string of charms under his breath. Finally, he turned to her and signaled for her to put the flute down. Warily, she did so, and she was astonished to hear a faint melody floating through the air.

"How did you…"

"I studied music as a child, remember?" he said. "I happen to know a variant of that particular spell, so that's what I used – probably won't last as long as the original, but he'll still be out for a while. Now let's get out of here before he decides to wake up again." Nodding in agreement, Hermione and Ginny quickly followed Draco from the clearing.

It was nearing dinnertime when Hermione decided they should call it quits for the night.

"We're very close," she told Draco and Ginny, proving her point with a locator spell she'd cast on the map, "but we won't be able to repair the wards in the dark. I say we camp here for the night and get going at sunrise."

"Camp, Granger?" Draco asked. "How exactly are you proposing we do that?" In answer, Hermione extracted her beaded bag from inside her cloak. A couple spells later, a fully erected tent stood in the clearing.

"Is that the tent we took to the World Cup?" Ginny asked, just as Malfoy said, "How the hell have you been carrying a _tent_ all this way without us knowing?" Hermione laughed.

"Yes, Gin, it's the same tent, and to answer your question, Draco, I've got an Undetectable Extension Charm on my bag. Did you really think that Harry, Ron, and I carted everything around on our backs last year while we were on the run? Honestly." She shook her head and grinned, then set about reciting the protection spells she'd used so many times before, ignoring Draco's muttered, "Show-off."

"Coming?" she asked, holding the tent flap open.

Hermione was pleasantly surprised to see that the tent was still in good shape after being ransacked by the Snatchers – there was a slight gouge mark in the table and one of the cushions was devoid of its stuffing, but otherwise, everything seemed intact. She reached into her bag once more and extracted two rucksacks, tossing one each to Ginny and Draco.

"Your things are all in here," she told them. "Bathroom's through there, bedrooms are in the back. It's nothing fancy, but it'll more than suffice for tonight. The house elves packed us dinner – all we have to do is reheat it." She pulled a large container from her bag and opened it to reveal several food items, and they sat down a short time later to enjoy a meal of roast chicken, potatoes, and treacle tart.

"That," Hermione said once they'd finished, "was _so_ much better than anything we ate in here last year."

"What exactly _did_ you eat in here last year?" Draco inquired.

"Most of what we ate could hardly be considered edible," Hermione snorted. "We ate whatever we could find, really – roots, wild mushrooms, fish if we were lucky. We were able to get food from Muggle markets once or twice, but even those meals weren't very good – shopping under the Invisibility cloak is rather difficult."

"I'll bet my dear brother loved that," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "We all know how he is with food."

"Oh, yes," Hermione agreed, a hint of sarcasm in her tone. "He loved it so much he left."

"He _what?"_ Ginny asked, aghast.

"Oh, you didn't know that?" When Ginny shook her head tersely, Hermione said, "Ron let the Horcrux get the better of him – he was already irritable due to the lack of food, and the locket always made whoever was wearing it extra cranky."

"Well, why the hell were you wearing it in the first place?" Draco interrupted. "Something that Dark was bound to mess with you."

"Yes, it was," Hermione agreed, "but it was the only way we could ensure we wouldn't lose it before we had a chance to destroy it. The things were hard enough to track down without worrying about losing them. Anyway, Ron was in a right foul mood for ages and finally snapped – he left Harry and I alone for several weeks before he finally came back."

"I'll kill him," Ginny seethed. "My brother can be such a prat!"

"Gin, it's ok," Hermione assured her. "I hexed him good for that, and he played his part in the end. He did destroy one of the Horcruxes, after all, and he did more than his fair share in the final battle."

"Still," Ginny muttered, "doesn't give him a reason to walk out on his best friends. It's not like everything was picnics and tea parties here, either."

"Little Red, as much as I love bashing your brother, can we talk about something else, please?" Draco asked suddenly. "I'd rather not think about last year, thanks."

"I'll take first watch, then?" Hermione offered, standing to clear the plates. When Draco gave her a look, she said, "We're in the middle of the Forbidden Forest with a broken ward not far away – do you really want to leave the tent unguarded all night, even if it is protected and invisible?" Draco shook his head vehemently, and Hermione chuckled. "I didn't think so." She retreated into the back room to put on some more layers – Draco suppressed a laugh when she came back and he noticed she was wearing her fuzzy pink socks again.

"I'll come wake you at midnight," she told him as she laced up her boots. "Try not to blow anything up until then."

"We'll do our best, but I can't make any promises," Draco smirked. "Goodnight, Granger."

"Goodnight."


	22. Restoring What was Broken

**A/N: Thanks to HallowRain8587, Hyk, Oro Rosa, StephanieTreat, XritaskeeterhatersX, pinkcrazyness, Goddess Athena In Disguise, marzipan18, KaitiDiddle, &amp; stiltinski for the follows/favorites, &amp; thanks to I heart Star Trek, HallowRain8587, leilanecris, and my Guest for the lovely reviews! Hope I'm not disappointing you thus far.**

**Here's chapter 22 - took me a bit to figure out how I wanted to do this one, so I'm sorry for the delay. As always, JKR owns all the good stuff. Plot's mine, that's it. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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Hermione was already awake when Draco made his way into the kitchen the next morning.

"Morning, Granger," he said, sliding into the seat opposite hers. "Where's Little Red?"

"Ginny's asleep," Hermione replied. "Her watch ended about half an hour ago, and I told her she could go back to bed. We won't be going anywhere for a little bit yet – in case you haven't noticed, it's still dark."

"Please don't tell me you're doing homework," he snorted, gesturing towards the stack of parchment in front of Hermione.

_"No,_ I'm not." She stuck her tongue out at him and reached across the table to slap his arm. "I'm going over the warding spell again." She paused, tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, and looked up at him. "Did you want something to eat?"

"What?"

"Breakfast, Malfoy. First meal of the day, usually accompanied by the arrival of the post, absolutely necessary if you want to make it through morning classes alive…ringing any bells?"

"I know what breakfast is, Granger! I just didn't realize we had anything, or I would've already asked." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Boys and their stomachs," she muttered. "Of course I have food – after all the bickering I had to put up with last year, I certainly wasn't about to go into this unprepared. I highly doubted we'd be able to eat anything we found in here, and as food is one of the five-"

"Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration?" Draco finished. When Hermione stared at him in shock, he smirked and said, "Honestly, Granger, just because Potter and Weasley don't read doesn't mean the rest of us don't. Gamp's Law is basic O.W.L. stuff."

"I…well, yes, I suppose it is," Hermione said, rather flustered, "and I suppose I did start to go off just now."

"No matter." Draco waved it off. "Now, what was your point before you got sidetracked?" Hermione's cheeks turned even pinker, but she managed to answer.

"Last night's dinner wasn't the only thing I got from the house elves," she said. "We have enough food to last us two full days if we need it." She got up and made for the cupboards, coming back moments later with two steaming platters of bacon and eggs. "Stasis Charms are a beautiful thing," she said as she set the food down. "Want anything to drink?"

"Got any coffee?" Draco asked. "I'm still not fully awake." She chuckled and passed over the pot, and the two dug in, chatting quietly about their tasks for the day as they ate.

"If you want a shower, I suggest you take care of that now," Hermione said as they cleaned up. "Ginny will be up soon – she takes longer showers than all the eighth years combined, and unlike Hogwarts, this tent does not have an endless supply of hot water."

"Duly noted," Draco said with a laugh, "thanks."

"Towels are in the trunk in the bedroom," Hermione replied. "I'm going to start packing up."

Two hours later, they'd dismantled their campsite and were ready to leave. Ginny had indeed taken an incredibly long shower – although, when an indignant shriek undoubtedly signifying rapidly decreasing water temperature forced both Hermione and Draco to smother their laughter, they knew the redhead's soak hadn't been nearly as long as she would've liked. She'd emerged from the bathroom in a huff, her hair dripping all over the carpet before she'd cast a drying charm on herself and sat down with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Luckily, the beverage had soothed the younger girl's legendary temper, and she was much calmer by the time they departed.

The rest of their journey was uneventful, which was rather unusual when dealing with the Forbidden Forest, but nobody complained. Just the centaurs and Fluffy, a mere fraction of what the Forest had to offer, had been more than enough the day before. After about twenty minutes or so of walking, Hermione stopped and consulted the map.

"We should be almost there," she murmured, "but I'm not sure exactly how we're going to find the breach if we can't see it…"

"It's there," Draco interrupted.

"Sorry, what?"

"The breach is right there," he said, pointing at a spot some twenty feet ahead.

"How can you tell?" Hermione asked curiously.

"I can feel it – the disturbance in the magic," he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Can't you?"

"I-"

"Close your eyes, Granger." Hermione glanced at him skeptically but did as he asked. Next to her, Ginny did the same. "Now, concentrate on the magic around you. Where is the breach?" Hermione's battle-honed senses had heightened dramatically the instant her eyes had closed, and she was surprised to discover that Draco was right – she could _feel_ the wards' magic. The wards were extremely powerful and woven like an exceptionally tight blanket, the different spells rippling together in a waterfall effect. Powerful, undeterred, uninterrupted…except…wait. There was a spot, roughly the size of Gryffindor Tower's portrait hole, where there was a rip in the seams, so to speak. In that one spot, the haze of the magic was absent. She opened her eyes, and instead of verbally answering Draco's question, she fired a spell at the spot. Her aim was true, and the jet of light went right through and distantly hit something on the other side – by contrast, if she'd hit any intact part of the wards, the spell would've rebounded.

"Exactly," Draco said, giving her an approving look. "Little Red, did you find it too?" Ginny nodded.

"A bit weird, but yeah," she confirmed. "How'd you know to do that?"

"My house is almost as heavily warded as Hogwarts," he replied. "When you've felt that kind of magic around you since birth, you can tell when something's changed about it. And…well, when you spend time in the dark, you have to learn to see in other ways." He looked almost ashamed as he spoke this last sentence, and the girls both knew he didn't mean literal darkness.

"Thank you, Draco," Hermione said in an effort to ease some of his sudden tension. "This makes our job a lot easier." She gave him a small smile, and he relaxed slightly. "Shall we get to it, then?"

Professor McGonagall had told them that, although they'd each be casting something slightly different, the charms would be the most effective if the three casters were connected. Physical touch would, by association, link their magic, intertwining the spells and multiplying their effectiveness exponentially. It was neither practical nor possible for the three to go the obvious route of holding hands when they needed to be able to use their wands, so they compromised by having Hermione and Ginny rest their free hands on Draco's shoulders. As they quickly discovered, this was a more than adequate substitute – no sooner had they begun casting did Hermione feel her companions' magical presence. It was strange, being linked to someone else like that, but it was almost soothing, in a way.

The charm was multifaceted and lengthy – if they managed to do it correctly, it would take them the better part of ten minutes to complete. The three chanted in harmony, the different tenors of their voices mingling in a sort of song as the Latin flowed from their lips and the magic from their wands. Light of all colors poured forth and spiraled together to create a bolt of purest gold, which connected with the existing wards and began weaving itself into place as the spell continued. About halfway through, Hermione felt Draco's arm tense under her fingers, but she didn't dare look at him for fear of breaking her concentration. She'd just have to wait until they were done to ask what was wrong and hope he hadn't messed something up.

Finally, the arc of golden light finished spiraling in on itself and fully connected in a perfect circle before shimmering into invisibility. Utterly exhausted, the three teenagers sank to their knees on the cold ground.

"We did it," Ginny said weakly. "We actually did it!" In spite of the tiredness lacing her voice, she was grinning, and Hermione couldn't help but smile back. Their smiles faltered when Draco hissed involuntarily and grabbed his left arm.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing, Granger, leave it go," Draco said. He was trying to sound nonchalant, but the pain betrayed him.

"Don't 'nothing' me, Draco," Hermione scolded. "I've known something was wrong for the last ten minutes, what is it?" The spark in her brown eyes told him she wouldn't accept whatever bullshit lie she knew he was trying to come up with, so he resigned himself to the truth.

"I added something to my part of the warding spell – with McGonagall's permission, of course," he added hastily when Hermione's narrowed eyes darkened. "An extra layer against Dark magic, if you will. Only I don't think my…_past_ liked that very much."

"Draco," Hermione said slowly, "What. Is. Wrong?" Her tone was so dangerous that he immediately rolled up his sleeve. His Dark Mark, which had faded a bit since last June, was midnight black and surrounded by angry red splotches, not unlike those of an allergic reaction.

"Malfoy, what the hell?" Ginny asked. "I thought that thing didn't work now that Voldemort's dead!"

"It doesn't," he replied, trying not to wince again, "but as much as I'd like it to be, I don't think the magic behind it's completely gone yet, and casting something so clearly against its purpose…in any case, I doubt it'll happen again – I dunno about you two, but I'm drained, and I can't imagine there's much left in this thing after that – but for now, it hurts like hell."

"Here," Hermione said suddenly. She had been rummaging in her beaded bag as he spoke and now offered him a washcloth soaked in some sort of liquid.

"What is it?" he asked, somewhat apprehensively.

"Something that will help," she snapped impatiently. "Just take the damn thing, Draco." He did, and he relaxed visibly as the cool liquid hit the rash.

"OK, I'm never questioning you again, Granger," he said. "What is this stuff?"

"Essence of murtlap," she replied. "It won't make the rash go away – you'll probably have to see Madam Pomphrey for that – but it'll ease the stinging, at any rate."

"Is there anything you _don't_ have in that bag, Granger?" Draco asked. Hermione snorted lightly and made a show of looking through the bag.

"Tent, changes of clothes, several dozen books, an apothecary's worth of potions, one of Ron's old chess sets, enough parchment to rewrite all my Hogwarts essays to date…no, not really."

"Hermione, you're something else," Ginny said with a laugh. "Any chance you've got some more sandwiches in there? I'm starved."

"Let me tell Professor McGonagall that we're done here first, then we can eat." Hermione sent a Patronus off to the Headmistress with her message, then extracted the last of the sandwiches from her bag.

After a quick lunch, the three began their return trip out of the Forest. It was nearing nightfall as they finally stumbled out of the trees into the thick snow near Hagrid's hut, and they made their way up the gently sloping lawn as quickly as they could, eager for hot baths and warm beds. Hermione and Draco bid Ginny goodnight on the third floor landing, and Hermione sent another Patronus off to let the Headmistress know they'd returned as they made their way back to their common room.

"Here," she said to Draco once they'd reached the familiar space. She offered him the bottle of essence of murtlap. "Just in case."

"You don't need it?" he asked.

"You think I don't have more?" she replied, smirking slightly. "Keep it. I'd still go see Madam Pomphrey tomorrow, or even tonight, if you're feeling up to it, but it can't hurt to have that around."

"Alright. Thanks, Granger." He pocketed the vial and made to open the door to the boys' dormitory. Just before he stepped inside, he turned back to her.

"Granger?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"Do you think I could cast a Patronus?"

It was an odd way to phrase the question, Hermione thought, but she understood what he meant. The Patronus Charm was widely recognized as a very 'Light' spell – besides requiring a happy memory for proper casting, she couldn't think of a Dark wizard who'd been capable of producing one. She cocked her head to one side and gave him a thoughtful look.

"There are very few people who I truly believe could never do so, and they're all dead," she finally said. "Does that answer your question?" He didn't reply, but he smiled slightly, bid her goodnight, and retreated to his room.

Hermione smiled to herself as she got ready for bed. Draco would never ask her to actually _teach_ him the Patronus Charm, and she certainly wasn't going to shatter his pride by volunteering, but the fact that he'd asked her about it at all, the fact that someone who'd previously been enveloped by Darkness was interested in something so Light, still made her feel like she'd accomplished something good.


	23. Silver and Gold

**A/N: Thanks to HPAsherra, clare127, CyanideAndRazorblades, &amp; SingrBear for following, &amp; thanks to carrie76 &amp; SingrBear for the reviews! You're the best, really.**

**May I present chapter 23 - the Quidditch final! Anything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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The remainder of February and most of March passed at an alarming rate – the seventh and eighth years were slowly realizing that their N.E.W.T.s were fast approaching, and if their ever-increasing workload was anything to go by, they'd be lucky to finish everything before the exams arrived. Mishaps in class were more frequent as the brain-fried, sleep-deprived students struggled to maintain their concentration, and they'd long ago come to terms with the fact that they wouldn't be getting to bed anytime before midnight between now and mid-June.

However, as was often the case at Hogwarts, the students had more than just academics on their minds. The attack on the castle caused many to renew their subscriptions to the _Daily Prophet,_ and they kept a watchful eye out for anything suspicious. Thankfully, the Death Eaters who'd been captured at the school had been more than willing to supply names and other helpful information once they'd realized they wouldn't be getting away a second time, and the last of the Dark army had finally been captured just under two weeks ago. Relieved that the threat was finally gone, Hermione and her classmates had taken an afternoon off to enjoy some butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks and had wandered Hogsmeade afterward, taking advantage of the occasion to stock up on all their favorites the little village had to offer.

Their other biggest distracter, of course, was Quidditch – Phoenix Rising's previous victories had secured them a spot in the final in early April, and the whole school was in a frenzy over the upcoming match. The usual outward hostilities towards the participating players were absent, thanks to the teams' mix of students from all houses and years, and was instead replaced with a feeling of almost palpable excitement as the big day drew ever nearer. The Dragon Tamers, Captained by Paul Rogers, had proven themselves a formidable team over the course of the season – if nothing else, the game promised to be a good one. Hermione found herself spending a great deal of time in the common room in Draco's company as he and Lisa slogged through their homework after Ginny's increasingly grueling practice sessions – they hardly ever spoke to one another, the only noises the scratching of quills and the occasional rustle of pages as they double-checked information in their textbooks or notes, but doing homework together proved far better than attempting the formidable task alone. To Hermione's unending amusement, Crookshanks seemed to have grown rather attached to Draco – the ginger cat had established himself a seemingly permanent place beneath Draco's chair, and although Draco had been rather reluctant with the arrangement at first, Crookshanks had slowly but surely grown on him, and he often greeted the cat with a scratch behind the ears before turning his attention to his work.

The evening before the match, Draco threw down his quill around eleven o'clock, a sigh of frustration escaping his lips.

"I can't concentrate anymore," he said faintly, gesturing towards the pile of parchment before him. "I feel like my head's about to explode." Hermione chuckled softly before setting aside her own quill.

"I don't blame you," she said, "not with the big game tomorrow and all. And you're not the only one who's not working." She gestured towards the sofa, where Blaise and Lisa were bent over a large book, their heads close together. They were talking quietly, and although Draco couldn't hear the full extent of their conversation, he recognized the book as one of Quidditch tactics. It seemed that Blaise was trying to reassure his girlfriend that everything would be fine the next morning, but Draco couldn't tell if his friend was having any luck. Lisa was a fantastic Chaser, but she always came down with a bad case of pre-match nerves that refused to go away until the starting whistle blew. No one else was in the common room – Susan had already gone to bed, complaining of a headache, and Justin and Neville had gone to the greenhouses to check up on their joint Herbology project, having not had time to do so earlier in the day.

"Draco, go to bed," Hermione said quietly. He gave her a questioning look, and she continued, "You'll need your sleep for tomorrow. One night off studying won't kill you – it's almost the Easter holidays; you'll have plenty of time for work then."

"Hermione Granger is telling me to stop studying," he murmured softly, a small smile playing across his lips as he stroked Crookshanks, who'd crawled into his lap the instant he'd noticed they were no longer working. "How did the world end without me noticing?"

"Oh, hush," she replied. "I've just about had it as well. If I spend too much more time with those Rune diagrams I think I might go cross-eyed, and I've read more Potions definitions today than I can count. I'm going to bed." She began packing up her things and gave Draco a pointed look, at which he did the same.

The next morning was a sharp contrast to that of Phoenix Rising's previous match – the sky was overcast, but it was infinitely warmer, and the rain that had been pounding the castle on and off for the last week had finally stopped. Ginny practically forced her team to eat second helpings of everything at breakfast while touching very little herself – Hermione was distinctly reminded of Oliver Wood's behavior in their third year – and the redhead hauled her team off to the locker rooms long before the match was scheduled to begin. At a quarter to eleven, Hermione, Blaise, Justin, Susan, and Neville headed down to the stadium, taking up their customary seats in the top row. They'd created a special banner just for the occasion, not unlike the ones the Gryffindors had made in previous years, and they busied themselves setting it up on two large poles behind the seats before the game began.

If Draco and the others had thought Ginny determined during her last pep talk, it was nothing to her behavior now. Her eyes gleamed with pure passion, and her body language was not unlike that of someone preparing for war. She stood as tall as her petite frame would allow, her stance bold and her face radiating her resolve to win. Her red hair flowed in a thick braid down her back, and her Captain's badge gleamed brightly on her chest.

"This is it," she said, her voice the strongest they'd ever heard from her, "our last chance to get out there and show our stuff. Rogers has a great squad – we'll be greater. His team flies fast – we'll fly faster. And at the end of the day, we'll come out on top, because when a phoenix is reborn, there's nowhere for it to go but up. Phoenix flames may be gold, but today, I want to see some silver, because I want to win that Quidditch Cup! Who's with me?" She was practically shouting by the end of her little speech, her excitement infectious as her team threw their hands in for their customary pre-game chant. With a last exchange of smiles and nods, they took to the field.

The roar of the crowd as they reached the pitch was phenomenal – the Quidditch final hadn't been so highly anticipated since Gryffindor had won the Cup in Draco's third year, and as such, the whole school had turned out in full force. A huge block of Phoenix Rising supporters all sat together, making it look as though the stands were on fire from the various bright colors of their outerwear, and the team could faintly make out the large banner rippling over the heads of the eighth years. Draco squinted up at it and grinned when he realized what it said. He nudged Sam's arm to get her attention and gestured towards the banner, and soon, the entire team had seen the message their friends had created:

_For the Phoenix, Fly! _

The navy banner matched their robes, and the fiery letters seemed to dance under a spell that Draco was sure was Hermione's doing. It was a beautiful piece of work, and the sight of the blinding message lifted their spirits even more as they took their pre-takeoff stances. Ginny shook hands with Paul, and Madam Hooch blew her whistle. The Quidditch final had begun.

The spectators had anticipated an excellent match, and they weren't disappointed. Lee Jordan was kept busy as both teams' Chasers flipped the Quaffle back and forth with amazing speed, and the Beaters put all their strength into every hit. As he rose above the game to circle the field, Draco couldn't help but feel more than a little pleased at the thought that a large portion of the crowd actually wanted his team to win – it was a refreshing change from being in the minority when it came to supporters. He wasn't the only one who wanted to win, of course, but he couldn't deny it would be a fantastic way to finish off his Quidditch career, and as more than half his team faced similar ends, he resolved to throw himself into this final like never before. Sam made a spectacular save just then, and as she tossed the Quaffle to her brother, she caught sight of Draco and grinned, the same determination to see victory sparkling in her eyes.

After an hour, the Snitch had yet to make an appearance, and the game was starting to get physical. More than once, both sides' Chasers were forced to abandon their initial strategies as Quaffle passes were intercepted by Bludgers or the opposing Chasers, and several players sustained minor injuries from successful Bludger hits. The Keepers were both brilliant, each making one hair-raising save after another as the Chasers launched wave after wave of brutal assaults on the goal hoops.

"And it's the Dragon Tamers with the lead, 70-60, but it's Lisa Turpin of Phoenix Rising with the Quaffle…"

The game continued much in this fashion for nearly another hour – the Snitch made a brief appearance about halfway through this second hour, but both Seekers had merely a fleeting glimpse of the elusive ball before a rogue Bludger forced them both to scatter. By the time the Bludger had changed course, the Snitch had disappeared. Neither team seemed able to hold an advantage scoring-wise, and the goals were becoming fewer and farther between as the players began to tire. After another ten minutes, Paul called time-out, and the fourteen players gratefully accepted the short break. Draco kept one eye on the skies as Ginny gave them all a quick pep talk, but the only sparkling thing he saw was the banner still fluttering behind his friends.

At Madam Hooch's whistle, the game resumed once more. It was obvious everyone was getting tired, as the fancier moves both teams favored gradually began to disappear in favor of more straightforward tactics. Unfortunately, this made the Beaters' job much easier, and not five minutes later, Draco heard a sickening _crack_ and turned just in time to see a Bludger connect with Ginny's left ankle. She spun slightly and winced at the obvious pain, but she waved off Madam Hooch and stubbornly continued to fly. Her broken ankle didn't keep her from flying properly, and there was no way in hell she was leaving the pitch before the match ended.

Draco shook his head slightly at Ginny's stubbornness – she'd be hurting like hell until they could get her to Madam Pomphrey – and a sight just to the left of his Captain made his heart drop into his stomach. Paul Rogers was rocketing upward with a determined look on his face, gaining on the fluttering speck just above him. Draco's broom was fast, but Paul was light years closer – without a miracle, there was no way Draco would catch the Snitch.

Just then, a well-timed Bludger from Rose zipped straight into Paul's path – with a yell, he veered sideways to avoid it. Draco, who was still racing towards Paul, looked around frantically – where the bloody hell had the Snitch gone? Then, he saw it – the Bludger must have caused the little ball to change direction, because the Snitch was suddenly flying right towards him. Extending his arm with a shout, Draco closed his fingers over the Snitch, its silver wings beating gently against his palm.

It took the crowd a minute to figure out what had happened – they thought the Snitch had disappeared again when the Bludger arrived – but when the eighth years caught sight of Draco shooting towards the ground, grinning from ear to ear with his fist raised high over his head, they knew it was over. Hermione screamed and Blaise let out a shout of delight as the gathered students cheered until they were hoarse. The players themselves seemed to be in a state of shock as they made their way back to the ground – Sam was sobbing unabashedly into her twin's shoulder, and Ginny promptly threw her arms around Draco's neck and kissed his cheek the instant they'd both landed. She nearly collapsed when she tried to put weight on her injured ankle, but she shot Draco a look that said quite clearly, 'Make me try to leave this early, and I'll hex you,' so he instead wrapped one arm around her shoulders to help her stand. Lisa and Rose were jumping up and down, shrieking, "We did it! We won!" and Carter was trying to look dignified but failing miserably, eventually giving up and joining in the girls' victory dance.

The eighth years were right behind Professor McGonagall as she presented the enormous Quidditch Cup to Ginny, and Hermione couldn't hold back her tears as her best girlfriend hoisted the silver trophy high above her head. Thinking quickly, she focused the small camera she'd brought to the match and snapped several photos as the Cup was passed from player to player.

"Think I can come out now?" asked a voice at her shoulder. She laughed quietly.

"Yes, I think you can. You'll get trampled if you stay under there too much longer."

Ginny caught Hermione's eye and smiled broadly, but her smile turned to shock as she registered who was standing next to her friend.

"HARRY!" Ignoring her throbbing ankle, Ginny tore away from Draco's stabilizing hold and launched herself into her boyfriend's arms, kissing him soundly.

"What are you doing here?" she asked breathlessly once they'd broken apart.

"I came to watch you play," Harry answered, grinning down at her. "I didn't tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise." At this, Ginny promptly burst into tears, burying her face in Harry's shoulder.

"We need a team picture with the Cup!" Blaise called, breaking the moment. Harry helped Ginny back to the podium, where she quickly dried her eyes before squeezing his hand and taking her place in the center of the group. She raised the Cup once more as Hermione snapped several pictures of the team, every one of them smiling like they'd never done before.

"Party in our common room!" Susan shouted. Several cheers met her announcement, and the group raced off across the grounds – the team on their broomsticks, their friends running beneath them – to celebrate the Phoenix's rising.


	24. One Year

**A/N: Very little to do at work means two chapters in one day. At least I can say I've been productive somehow.**

**This chapter, especially the final scene, has been floating around in my head for a while, so I hope you all like it. My plot, JKR owns the rest. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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After the Quidditch final, the eighth years had considerably less to distract them from their studying, and as usual, the Easter holidays looked to be far less relaxing than the Christmas ones. Hermione found herself facing the prospect of an empty dormitory, as Lisa and Susan had both elected to return home for the break, and she planned to use the time to get as much work done as she could. She retired to her room early that night, studied until eleven, and curled up on the window seat with a favorite book before crawling into bed.

_"Where did you get this?"_

_"We found it, please!"_

_"Liar. CRUCIO!"_

Hermione bolted upright, only just restraining herself from crying out. Taking in her surroundings, she relaxed slightly – she was still at Hogwarts. Bellatrix Lestrange was dead. It was just a dream – a very real dream, but a dream nonetheless. She rolled over to squint at the clock on her bedside table – it was just after two in the morning. Hermione did some math in her head and sighed – she should've known she wouldn't sleep through the night, not when exactly a year ago today, those dreams had been horrifying reality.

Hermione was contemplating going back to bed when a noise from the common room caught her attention. Curious, she pulled the entire duvet off her bed, wrapped herself in it, and slowly opened her bedroom door. As soon as the lock clicked open, she realized the noise she was hearing was music, and as she edged the door open further, her eyes caught the source – Draco sat at the piano, his slender fingers rapidly racing up and down the keys as he played. He looked so focused that Hermione decided to leave him alone, but the door squeaked on its hinges, and he jerked his hands away from the instrument and turned to face her.

"Granger? I thought you'd gone home – did I wake you?" Hermione shook her head.

"No, you didn't. I was already awake – couldn't sleep." She shuffled towards him as best she could with the duvet dragging behind her and took a seat on the floor near the piano bench.

"I…are you alright?" Draco asked a little awkwardly. Conversations like this were not his forte – personal questions weren't really a Slytherin thing, after all.

"Draco, what's today's date?" Hermione asked. He thought about it for a second, obviously counting mentally, and gave her the correct answer. She nodded, her expression wistful, and he wondered what the date had anything to do with her inability to sleep. When the answer finally hit him, he almost fell off the bench.

"Oh, sweet Salazar…I've been trying not to think about that, to be honest…I'm so sorry, Hermione." She looked up to see him staring at the floor a good three feet to her left, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

"Draco, look at me." He shook his head almost imperceptibly. She repeated the request, this time with a little more force, and he grudgingly obliged. His gray eyes were full of emotions the likes of which she'd never seen from him before, the most prominent being guilt and regret. The only other time she'd seen him so shaken had been in Harry's Pensieve memories.

"Draco, I've told you this before. There is nothing – _nothing_ – you could have done that day. I don't blame you for what happened, you know that, so please don't blame yourself."

"That was one of the single worst days of my life," he replied quietly. "You were always so strong, so…_you_, and seeing you broken and bleeding, so _helpless,_ went against everything I knew you were. You can keep telling me it wasn't my fault until the day I die, but for me, there will always be that 'what if'?"

"No, there won't." Her voice was soft but firm. "Living a life of 'what ifs' won't get you anywhere. I've told you before, and I'll tell you again – if you'd tried anything, we both would've died. We're both here, we're both alive, and I can't ask for anything else." She reached over and squeezed his hand, and that simple touch was enough to reassure him. He relaxed ever so slightly, and Hermione smiled softly.

"What were you playing just now?" she asked, gesturing towards the piano.

"Oh – nothing, really," he replied. "Just some exercises. I couldn't sleep either, and mindless repeating like that helps me clear my head."

"I'd bet you have something that's a little more enjoyable to play, though," Hermione countered. He nodded and turned towards the keys, and a soothing melody soon rang forth from the old instrument. It was short, sweet, and not nearly as elaborate as what he'd been playing before, but Hermione liked it much better.

"That was beautiful," she said quietly once he'd finished. "What was it?"

"It's a lullaby my mother used to sing to me when I was little," he answered. "I don't recall the name of it and I don't remember all the words, but I've always loved the tune. It's simple, but it's calming." Hermione nodded – she knew exactly what he meant.

"Are you – are you going to be alright?" Draco asked uncertainly.

"Yes, I will be, thank you. The nightmares are awful, and I'm not surprised that they came tonight, but that's all they are." Hermione snuggled deeper into her blanket until she was no more than a cocoon of fluff on the floor. "Will you play the song again, Draco?" she asked.

"Sure."

Draco did as Hermione requested, coaxing the comforting melody from the keys once more. He ran through it several times, embellishing the main notes a little differently each time before returning to the base tune the final run through. As he played, a sense of calm washed over him – the horrors of the previous year would never fully fade, but they were over, and he wasn't alone. Hermione had been there through every moment of this rollercoaster final year, and he knew she'd be there till the end. The thought of having anyone as a friend was great, yes, but the thought of having Hermione Granger as his friend was not only miraculous, but also nothing short of wonderful. He owed her so much, and while he doubted he'd ever be able to repay her, he was beyond grateful for everything she'd done for him.

As the final chord faded into nothing, Draco glanced down with the intention of voicing his thoughts, only to find that Hermione had fallen asleep. He knew he wouldn't be able to get into her room – the enchantments on the girls' dormitory here was the same as that in the house dormitories – but he knew she'd be incredibly sore if she spent the night on the floor, so he scooped her up, taking care not to wake her, and relocated her to the couch. She shifted slightly and mumbled something in her sleep but didn't wake, and Draco smiled slightly as he brushed a stray curl away from her face. Just before vanishing into his own dormitory, Draco turned back to look at the young woman curled up on the sofa.

"Goodnight, Granger," he said quietly. "The dreams are just dreams – they can't hurt you here. Sleep well."

A little over two weeks later, Draco, Hermione, and the others found themselves facing another anniversary – that of the Battle of Hogwarts. A formal memorial dinner was planned, and the students were expected to dress accordingly. The night of found the boys in the common room, straightening their ties and chatting aimlessly as they waited for the girls. As the occasion was exclusively for the students, Harry wouldn't be in attendance, so Neville had offered to escort Ginny in his place – Blaise was obviously with Lisa, and Justin and Draco had paired off with Susan and Hermione, respectively, to round out the group. Draco had tried to suggest that Hermione might be better off with a different escort, but she'd scoffed at him and told him no.

"On the contrary, it couldn't be a better match, given what the evening represents," she'd said. "After all, what did we fight this war for, anyway?" He'd finally relented, knowing she was right, and now he and the other boys were waiting for the girls to come out of their room. Finally, Lisa, Susan, Hermione, and Ginny emerged. All four of them, Draco noted, had forgone dress robes for Muggle dresses, and he had to admit they cleaned up rather nicely.

Hermione approached him slowly, a nervous smile on her face. She'd chosen a simple, three-quarter-sleeved wrap dress in royal blue, the hem falling just below her knees, and a pair of low-heeled Mary Janes. She'd pulled her front pieces back with bobby pins but left the rest of her hair in its natural loose curls, and her brown eyes bore only the slightest traces of makeup. The only jewelry she'd chosen for the evening was a simple sapphire pendant on a fine gold chain, a gift from her parents on her seventeenth birthday. The look was far different from the elegant ensemble she'd worn to the Yule Ball – it was as if she'd deliberately tried to make herself seem unassuming – but she looked just as beautiful now as she'd done that night four years ago.

"Well, don't you ladies look lovely tonight," Blaise said as the girls made their way over. The other boys nodded their agreement, and the girls flushed prettily as they mumbled their thanks and accepted their escorts' offered arms. With all the solemnity of a processional, the eight friends made their way through the castle to the Great Hall.

The feast was an extravagant one, the food rivaling that served at the Yule Ball, but the atmosphere was subdued as the students dined – the Hall had never been so full, yet so quiet. It seemed as if they were afraid to disturb the memories of those they'd lost by talking, so very little commentary was exchanged throughout the meal. Finally, Hermione decided she could eat no more and quietly excused herself.

"Just going to get some air," she murmured, and her friends nodded, understanding her need. Hermione left the Hall and made her way out onto the lawn, where she sought something she hadn't really looked at extensively before now – the war memorial.

The memorial sat just to the right of the main steps to the school. It was just over three feet tall and two or three inches thick, ovular in shape, and made of crystal – Hermione had seen it sending rainbows across the grounds on sunny afternoons, and it glittered softly in the evening's moonlight. The surface scrolled through the war's casualties one by one, giving each name a moment to register in the viewer's eyes before shifting fluidly into the next engraving. It was beautiful in its simplicity, and every single person killed during the war was represented in the perpetually flowing list, whether they were a prominent Auror or an anonymous Muggle unfortunate enough to be in the way of one of Voldemort's mass catastrophes. However, Hermione had yet to see a familiar name cross the crystal's surface, so when it shimmered and a name she knew well appeared, she found herself choking back a sob.

_Nymphadora 'Tonks' Lupin_

Compared to some of the other people they'd lost, Hermione hadn't known Tonks for all that long, but the spunky young Auror had become her instant friend, treating her almost like a sister, and her death had been hard to take.

Hermione suddenly sensed that she wasn't alone, and she knew before he'd even spoken who her companion was.

"Tell me something about her." The memorial shifted into the name _Remus John Lupin_, eliciting a fresh wave of tears from Hermione, who turned to meet Draco's gaze.

"About…Tonks?" she asked with a slight sniff. Draco nodded.

"She was my cousin, you know." Hermione had quite honestly forgotten that Draco and Tonks' mothers were sisters.

"Well…she was an Auror, a Hufflepuff…"

"No, Granger," Draco interrupted, "I don't want to know mundane facts about her. Who was she, as a person?" Hermione smiled slightly through her tears.

"She was an absolute klutz," she replied. "She was a Hufflepuff, like I said, but one of the most courageous Aurors there was – almost nothing fazed her. She was funny, she couldn't cook to save her life, and her preferred hair color was bubblegum pink. She adored her husband and son and treated everyone in the Order like family, even when Professor Moody was chastising her for tripping over the umbrella stand at Headquarters like she always did. She loved Charms but was rubbish at cleaning spells, she was a Metamorphmagus, she was a troublemaker…and she was my friend. I miss them so much," she finished in barely a whisper, a few more tears slipping down her cheeks. She laughed quietly as she wiped away the offending droplets.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't be," Draco replied. "She obviously meant something to you – they all did. You're allowed to be upset." He moved to stand behind her and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist, pulling her against him in a tentative embrace. Hermione rested her hands on top of his and sighed, relaxing ever so slightly into his touch, and even though he'd never had much of it before, Draco had to agree that the physical contact was the exact comfort they both needed right then. The two stood in silence for several long minutes, watching the crystal's engraving flicker from name to name. No other names they recognized appeared on the memorial's surface, but they stayed there all the same, each reflecting on that night exactly one year ago and everything the world they loved had experienced and lost to reach that point.

"Ginny gave me some good news earlier – Fleur had her baby today," Hermione said suddenly.

"Fleur?"

"Yes, Fleur Delacour – she represented Beauxbatons in the Triwizard Tournament, do you remember her?" When Draco nodded, Hermione continued, "She's married to Ginny's eldest brother, Bill, and their first child was born earlier today. It's a girl – I think they originally had a different name in mind, but given her birthday, I'd say their ultimate choice is perfect."

"What's her name?" Draco asked. Hermione smiled and sighed a little.

"Her name is Victoire."

"'Victory' – a perfect choice indeed."

A soft breeze ruffled their clothing, and Draco marginally tightened his hold on the witch in his arms as they fell into silence once more. If anyone had told him just two short years ago that he'd one day willingly hug Hermione Granger, he would've thought the informant insane, but so much had changed since then. Being thrust into the thick of a war had changed them both, and although they'd never be who they once were, he knew that, especially in his case, that wasn't exactly a bad thing. As he reflected on everything that had happened in the past year, Draco realized he had unfinished business to attend to. Turning Hermione to face him, he wiped away her tears with his thumb before leaning forward and brushing his lips gently against her forehead. It was a completely platonic gesture, but it spoke volumes about the gratitude he felt towards her. He could only hope she'd gotten the message.

"Thank you, Hermione," he said softly.

"For what?"

"Everything."


	25. Viciously Draining Magical Examinations

**A/N: Thank you to lexiigirl01, 73amy37, Serephina21, K-MC-N-Z-27, TeamSalvatore29, &amp; LylitheNocturnal for my new follows/favorites, &amp; thanks to HallowRain8587 &amp; Amanda for the reviews!**

**Here's chapter 25 - sorry if it's not as exciting as other chapters, hope you still like it. Probably only 1 or 2 more to go! JKR owns all as always, I just play. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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The Quidditch season was over. The battle's anniversary had come and gone. Warm weather had finally made an appearance. To the seventh and eighth years, this meant only one thing: their N.E.W.T.s had finally arrived. The eighth years, usually accompanied by Ginny, spent long hours holed up in their common room surrounded by notes and thick stacks of books. Predictably, Hermione was the worst of the lot – her piles of parchment were three times as thick as anyone else's, and she muttered incessantly to herself as she hurriedly checked facts and figures in her textbooks, the look in her eyes similar to that of a cornered animal. At the moment, she was reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood so quickly that rules three through six blended all together to those who could hear her, her hand acting as a bookmark so she could check the exact wording of each as she spoke it. Draco glanced over at Neville, who was scanning his Herbology notes, and muttered, "Is she always like this?" Neville chuckled quietly and nodded.

"Did you expect anything less?" he asked. "This is the girl who was disappointed that exams were cancelled second year because she'd already studied." It was Draco's turn to laugh.

"Only Hermione Granger would study for exams after having been Petrified for a month," he said. True, he'd seen Hermione in the library during exam time in years past, but as she was almost always in the library anyway, he'd never really witnessed her study-induced frenzies. In all honesty, it was actually bloody hilarious how much she was falling to pieces about something so mundane as exams after everything she'd faced, but he wasn't about to tell her that – in her current state, she was liable to hex him if he did.

"When using dragon's blood as a strengthener in certain potions, it is imperative to…to…" Hermione faltered in her recitation, whimpered a little, and frantically flipped her book open again, nearly tearing several pages in the process.

"Granger, calm down," Draco said, raising his eyebrows at her panicked expression.

"But I can't remember the-"

"You know the properties of dragon's blood like the back of your hand-"

"These exams are so important-"

"You've been studying for ages-"

"I'm going to fail everything-"

"For Merlin's sake, Hermione!" Draco nearly snapped, causing both her and Neville to jump slightly and the rest of the group, who sat around the fire, to look up questioningly. Draco took a deep breath before rounding the table and placing his hands firmly on Hermione's shoulders, forcing her to look up at him.

"Granger, I will give you that these things aren't called 'Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests' for nothing," he began, "but that's all they are – tests." Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Draco quickly placed his index finger over her lips, wordlessly telling her to be quiet. "I'm not finished. You're probably wanting to rant on about how important these exams are and all that, but let's face it – you could fail every single one of them and still go on to do whatever you wanted. But you won't – hell, you probably aced your N.E.W.T.s just by tromping around in the woods last year, but since you're you, you wouldn't have been satisfied if you hadn't come back to tackle the real thing. That's going to be a bit difficult to do if you end up in the hospital wing due to anxiety, so do us all a favor and bring it down a notch." Having finished his lecture, Draco removed his hands from Hermione's shoulders and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning one hip against the table as he continued to study her face.

The rest of the group held their breath as they waited for Hermione's response. Ginny in particular looked at Draco as if wondering whether she should commit him to St. Mungo's – didn't he know that approaching Hermione during exam time was like provoking a dragon? It just wasn't something you did if you wanted to walk away unscathed. To her immense surprise – and relief – Hermione actually laughed.

"I'm sorry," she said between giggles, "I suppose you're right. After everything I've done, I shouldn't be freaking out over some exams…it's just my natural instinct, I guess."

"Why bother to freak out when you know you're gonna end up with the best N.E.W.T. scores since Dumbledore?" Draco muttered, but he grinned all the same. At the very least, it'd be a hell of a lot easier to focus without Hermione's anxious babbling.

"Oooh, don't say that!" Hermione whined, looking nervous again. "You'll just jinx me!" Draco glanced over at Ginny, who merely rolled her eyes in response. Some things really did never change.

Over the next few weeks, the rest of the group managed to keep Hermione's nerves in check – she still studied more fervently than any of them, and she still muttered to herself when the exact wording of a particular law or theorem evaded her, but overall, she was much more tolerable. However, she couldn't help the whimper that escaped when Professor McGonagall gave them the official spiel and handed out the exam schedule, and her dorm mates teased her good-naturedly about it for several days afterwards. In an effort to keep the tension to a minimum, they even took a short break one evening to craft new names for the upcoming exams based on synonyms for 'Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests' – their favorite was 'Viciously Draining Magical Examinations,' and even though they weren't able to come up with one that spelled a magical creature, even Hermione had to admit that the little game helped with the stress.

Just as had been the case with their O.W.L.s, the first scheduled N.E.W.T. exam was Charms. After breakfast, the fifth, seventh, and eighth years milled about the entrance hall while the rest of the school retreated to their common rooms or the grounds, and they filed into the Great Hall and found their seats when Professor Flitwick instructed them to do so. Draco flipped his paper over when their time started, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Hermione, who sat one row to his right and a few seats forward, was already scribbling madly. Chuckling to himself at her signature overzealous behavior, he turned his attention to question one: _Define the terms listed and explain why it is important to know the difference with regards to Charms work – spell, jinx, hex, curse…_

"That wasn't too bad, I suppose," Neville remarked as they sat down to lunch some three hours later.

"No, not bad at all," Ginny agreed, reaching over to help herself to a ham sandwich, "although I noticed the questions were a lot more in-depth than the ones we had on our O.W.L.s. My wrist kinda hurts."

"I don't think I did question fifteen justice," Hermione said, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. "I think I may have forgotten-"

"Granger, you probably wrote more than the rest of us combined," Draco interrupted, gesturing to her ink-stained hands and smirking slightly when Hermione flushed. "And I don't think any of us really want to go over the exam again, so just accept that you blew it out of the water and get ready for the next one." Hermione couldn't think of a suitable response, so she merely nodded and turned her attention to her lunch, the telltale warmth still spread across her face.

That afternoon, the students faced their Charms practical. As they'd done with their O.W.L.s, they closeted themselves in one of the Great Hall's antechambers while they waited to be called. The exercises, while difficult, were fairly straightforward, and the friends chatted optimistically as they headed back upstairs to prepare for the next day's exams.

The rest of the exam period passed in a blur, their days filled with long sessions in the Great Hall and their nights devoted to a last spot of revision. One of the most drastically different practicals they faced was Potions. For their O.W.L., they'd been given a set length of time to brew one specific potion – however, many of the potions they'd studied at the N.E.W.T. level took far longer than an afternoon to brew. The students entered the Great Hall for this exam to find three cauldrons at each place, each one under a Stasis Charm. Each cauldron held a partially completed potion – their task was to identify their potions and finish brewing them accordingly in the time given. Thankfully, nothing exploded or melted, but the experience was still frazzling, and Draco, Hermione, and Ginny were glad that they had the next morning off.

Finally, after an uncomfortably warm afternoon dealing with Venomous Tentacula, Snargaluff pods, and bubotubers, their N.E.W.T.s were over. The eighth years trooped back to their common room to wash away the dirt and sweat accumulated during the Herbology practical and then promptly collapsed onto the first soft surfaces they found – Blaise didn't even make it to a chair, opting instead for sprawling across the common room carpet flat on his back.

"Remind me again why I put myself through this," he muttered, more to himself than anything else.

"Because you're an idiot," Draco supplied helpfully as he flopped down on the couch. Blaise reached over to swat his friend's arm and missed, but he was too exhausted to care about trying again.

"We did it for the closure," Lisa reminded them. "We came here on our own terms seven years ago, and we wanted to leave on our own terms as well. Besides, we had an advantage."

"What's that?" Draco asked curiously.

"We had a whole year to prep for these exams," Lisa replied. "Any of our classmates who took the mock-N.E.W.T.s last summer barely had six weeks, and their exams were just as hard as ours."

"That's true," Hermione said, nodding in agreement. "Harry and Ron spent the entire day at the Ministry taking that test."

"How did they pass without you there to hold their hands?" Draco snorted. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

"I don't know, to be honest," she finally replied, still glaring at him, "but they did, so you be quiet." She paused for a moment to scoop up Crookshanks, who'd slinked over to the group as they talked. He gave a contented purr as she scratched his ears, and she smiled broadly. "I can think of another advantage we had."

"What's that?" Lisa asked. If possible, Hermione's smile widened even further.

"We got to spend another year at Hogwarts."

Nobody could disagree with her that this was arguably the best advantage of them all.


	26. The End of an Era

**A/N: Thanks to FabMart, Sunshine72, Stargon1, foreverjuliet, MomsEscape, FairyTaleWolf6, StephanieTreat, atoumatoutou, &amp; samanthakp for the follows/favorites, &amp; thanks to Sunshine72, GinnyPotter6891, Stargon1, &amp; HallowRain8587 for the reviews!**

**This is the last chapter, so I'd like to say an extra thank you to ALL of you who've read, followed, favorited, &amp; reviewed my story - it really does mean a lot to me, &amp; I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. If you're interested in more Potterverse fun, I've started another story - Part 1 is called "Circumstances of an Unexpected Trio", &amp; I'll post the first few chapters after I finish posting this. As always, JKR owns everything you recognize. Please R&amp;R, &amp; enjoy! :)**

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The late June sunshine crept lazily across the sky and caressed the grounds for hours, and although the small group by the lake found themselves constantly bringing their arms up to shield their faces as they talked, they appreciated the beautiful weather. They'd been haunting the same spot near the dock every day since they'd finished their N.E.W.T.s, but they'd crossed their fingers for good weather today more than any other – it was the last day of term, and they were determined to enjoy it as much as they could.

"It's hard to believe it's all over," Hermione said softly as she absentmindedly fiddled with a wildflower she'd plucked from the lawn.

"What's all over?" Ginny asked.

"This." Hermione gestured towards the grounds with a sweep of her hand. "We're leaving tomorrow…and this time, we're not coming back."

"Well, aren't you just a right little ray of sunshine." Draco had been lying flat on his back near Hermione's feet, fingers laced behind his head as he stared up at the sky, but he shifted and propped himself up on his elbows to look at her as he spoke. "You really think we're leaving for good?"

"As much as I don't want to say it, our Hogwarts careers are over," Hermione reminded him. "When we get on that train tomorrow, that's it." Draco snorted.

"Please, Granger. I don't know who you're kidding, but you'll be back. After all, this place does have one of the biggest libraries in all of Wizarding Britain." He paused to smirk at her, then continued, "You're not coming back as a student, no, but I wouldn't be surprised if you came back as a teacher – nothing will keep Hogwarts' favorite know-it-all from these hallowed halls of learning for long."

"Draco, I can't teach fresh out of Hogwarts!" Hermione said, blushing furiously at his backhanded compliments.

"Maybe not, but you wouldn't do that anyway – you'll go off, spend a few years saving the world – or underprivileged creatures, or first-years, or whatever you Gryffindors are into saving these days – do some sort of impressive internship while simultaneously taking education courses, and _then_ come back to impart your wisdom on our next generation. How's that sound?"

"Better watch out there, Drake," Blaise said as he looked up from his book. "You keep talking like that, and people will actually think you're _friends _with Hermione here."

"Don't be ridiculous," Draco scoffed. "People won't have to think it, coz they'll already know it." He winked at Hermione, who flushed again – it really was a shame they hadn't been able to become friends sooner; getting her all flustered was so much fun.

"What are _you_ going to do after tomorrow, Draco?" Lisa asked, briefly looking up at him from the elaborate braid she was creating on Ginny's head. Several of them had already shared their post-Hogwarts plans – Lisa had an entry-level position in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, Ginny was freaking out about her upcoming tryout with the Holyhead Harpies, Neville had a Herbology apprenticeship lined up with Professor Sprout, and Blaise was considering offers from several different Ministry departments – but the blonde had so far kept quiet during those discussions. His response was to shrug.

"Not really sure," he said. "I was considering training as a Healer, but that would depend on my N.E.W.T. grades…and I'm not overly excited about some of the stuff they do. The initial Healer training covers pretty much everything, and do I really want to waste several more years of rigorous schooling on something that's not going to make me happy?"

"Fair point," Lisa conceded. "My cousin is a Healer, and she had to successfully complete the initial training program before she could even consider _applying_ to one of their specialized programs. I mean, it's great that they're so rigorous – I've been to St. Mungo's a few times for minor things, and I've always felt better knowing that the Healers really are the best at what they do – but you have to really want to commit to it completely." She paused and looked thoughtful for a moment as she considered Ginny's braid. "I've always been under the impression that you liked Potions – what about doing something related to that?"

"I do like Potions – it's one of my favorite subjects," Draco admitted, "but I have no idea how I'd turn that into a career. I don't really see myself as the next Snape." Blaise snorted, and Draco gave him a look that made him very glad he was out of the blonde's reach.

"What about their apprenticeships?" Hermione asked. Draco looked as if he didn't know how to respond.

"What do you mean?" he finally asked.

"I'll assume that you either didn't discuss Healing as an option at your career advice meeting in fifth year, or you weren't paying attention to what Snape told you," Hermione replied with a smirk. "St. Mungo's doesn't just employ Healers – they have all sorts of other specialists working there, especially helping to develop cures and things like that. They offer apprenticeships in half a dozen different areas, one of which is Potions. The program is just as demanding as the Healer trainee course, but as the focus is different, it's more specialized from the start. If you're really that interested, it might be worth looking into."

"As much as I love the fact that we're making breakthroughs with regards to Draco's career choices, this whole conversation is rather depressing for my liking," Ginny interrupted. "Real life can wait till tomorrow, but this lovely afternoon waits for no one – who's up for a swim?"

The next morning was a bittersweet one as the eighth years packed up the last of their belongings for the final time. After breakfast, they stayed in the common room for as long as they dared – they knew they'd have to head down to the carriages soon, but nobody seemed keen to leave the place that had helped bond the unlikely group. They were lounging on the couches, not really talking about anything in particular, when Hermione stumbled out of the girls' dormitory, her arms weighed down by a number of identical packages. Wordlessly, she set them on the homework table and passed each to its proper owner after a glance at the tags.

"Hermione, you didn't have to give us anything," Neville began, but Hermione held up her hand in a silent plea for him to keep quiet, and he obliged.

"Please, just open them," she requested. They did so, and each member of the group found themselves holding a small leather-bound book. The words _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Eighth Years, 1998-1999 _were stamped on the cover in smooth gold lettering, and when they opened the front cover, they discovered the books were actually photo albums. The first page held a photo Ginny had taken just the day before – the eighth years stood in a line on the sloping lawn by the lake, their arms draped casually around one another's shoulders as they grinned at the camera. They'd worn their House robes for old time's sake, and as Hermione had somehow managed to develop the photos in color, they noticed for the first time how well the House colors actually complemented one another. There was a short note underneath the photo, and Draco couldn't help the small smile that graced his lips as he took in the familiar neat handwriting:

_Draco,_

_When one door closes, another door opens – I hope you'll excuse the Muggle saying, but I felt it appropriate. Thanks for being a part of my open door and for letting me be a part of yours in turn. Keep in touch._

_Love from Hermione_

"Always hits the nail on the head, that girl," he murmured to himself as he flicked through the album. It was obvious she'd been taking pictures all year, and he suspected each person's album was slightly different based on Hermione's interactions with them. Some of the photos were still life shots – their common room, the library, the grounds as seen from the Astronomy Tower, the Great Hall, Hogsmeade, and a truly spectacular shot of the castle itself – but the majority of the pictures featured any number of the eighth years and their friends. There was a whole page dedicated to Phoenix Rising, the photo of the team with the Quidditch Cup displayed prominently in the middle. A frustrated Blaise lost a game of Wizard's chess to Justin in one photo, and Susan and Lisa laughed uproariously over a joke Neville had told in another. There were even several photos from their trip into the Forest, although Draco had no idea how Hermione had obtained these – taken them through a Pensieve, perhaps? She'd most likely done the same to get the shot of him playing the piano and the one of the two of them in front of the war memorial. One of his personal favorites featured himself and Hermione during their duel in Defense class – their photograph selves were flinging hexes at each other with lightning speed and looked a little worse for the wear, but the looks of pure ecstasy on their faces made Draco feel like he was living the duel all over again. It was easily one of his favorite memories from this year.

"Hermione, I don't know what to say," Susan said quietly. "These are incredible. You really didn't have to do this."

"Yes, I did," Hermione countered. "This was easily one of my best years here, and all because of you guys. I had no idea what to expect when I decided to come back, but I'm really glad I did."

"Don't go getting all sappy on us, Granger," Draco said, but his eyes told her he understood what she meant. It was probably safe to say they'd _all_ experienced their best year at Hogwarts this year, and he secretly admitted that it was better than he ever could've imagined.

"We should probably be heading down soon," Justin said rather reluctantly as he glanced at the mantle clock. "The train's leaving in half an hour." The rest of the students murmured in agreement and tucked their albums under their arms – as per usual, their trunks were already in the entrance hall, waiting to be transported to Hogsmeade Station. With one last glance around the empty common room, they left.

"Granger, can I talk to you for a second?" Draco asked once he'd shut the door behind him.

"Um…sure? It can't wait till we're on the train?"

"No, I want to show you something." He turned to the rest of the group. "We'll catch you up in a minute – save us a seat?" Neville nodded, and he, Lisa, Blaise, Susan, and Justin headed down the corridor, leaving Draco and Hermione alone.

"What's all this about, Draco?" Hermione asked as Draco led the way down the corridor in the opposite direction from their friends.

"Well, I don't really have a parting gift for you, but I did have something I wanted to show you." He pushed open the door of their old Defense classroom, which was closest, and said, "This'll do." Confused, Hermione followed him into the room and perched on the edge of a desk. With a flick of his wand, Draco dimmed the lights, leaving the classroom in a state of semi-darkness.

"You'll be able to see it better this way," he explained.

"See what?" Hermione asked, still unsure of where this was going.

"This." Draco turned to face her, raised his wand, and said, _"Expecto Patronum!"_ Hermione's eyes widened in recognition and then delight as the silver light burst from his wand. The little animal paused in front of her, sitting up on its hind legs and cocking its head to one side as it studied her. When Hermione realized just what the creature was, she burst into a fit of giggles.

"Yes, the form is rather unfortunate," Draco said sardonically. The ferret turned to face its conjurer, looking insulted.

"Oh, Draco, this is wonderful!" Hermione said once her laughter had subsided. "This is a great surprise, thank you. And the form isn't really all that surprising, really."

"And why not?" Draco asked, sounding rather affronted.

"No, I wasn't thinking of _that_ – although it is a rather amusing coincidence," she said with a small snicker. "If I'm not being too nosey, what memory did you use?"

"You are being too nosey, but I'll tell you anyway," he teased. "It was of you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you," he said seriously. "In spite of all the horrible things I did to you, you still found it in you to give me a second chance. You stood up for me when most everybody else wanted to lock me up for life, and you approached me of your own accord here and extended your hand. I don't know what I did to deserve your friendship, but…thank you," he finished awkwardly, flushing slightly.

"Who knew Draco Malfoy had a sweet side?" Hermione said, giving him a teasing smile. "You know why I did those things, Draco, and I'm glad I did. No, it's interesting that your Patronus takes that particular form because…" She drew her own wand. _"Expecto Patronum!"_ Her Patronus came forth to join Draco's, the two animals regarding one another curiously.

"It's an otter," she said in response to Draco's questioning look, "my favorite animal."

"What does your Patronus being your favorite animal have to do with mine being…what it is?" he asked.

"Otters and ferrets are related," Hermione replied. "I think it's rather fitting, don't you?" He smiled then and reached out to take Hermione's extended hand.

"Rather fitting indeed, Granger. Now, I do believe we've got a train to catch." Without letting go of each other's hands, they waved their wands to extinguish their Patronuses and left the classroom.

If anyone had tried to tell Hermione Granger just a short time ago that she'd spend her last day at Hogwarts walking the corridors hand-in-hand with Draco Malfoy, she'd have thought the informant insane – however, a lot had changed since they'd first come to Hogwarts, and many more changes were yet to come. They were no longer a Mudblood and a former Death Eater, or even a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, but two friends leaving a place that had undoubtedly played a huge part in their young lives. Their friendship certainly wasn't going to fix everything – and Hermione couldn't deny that the Wizarding world still had a long way to go – but as she and Draco made their way downstairs, laughing to themselves about something Ginny had said at breakfast, she smiled at the thought that they'd at least taken a step in the right direction.


End file.
